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THE 


MOSAIC worker's; 

9 

A 


TALE OF VENICE. 


TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF GEORGE SAND. 


PHILADELPHIA ! 
FEUHETT & CO 
1845. 




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Mebkihew & Thompson, F^IEntersP 
No. 7 Carters’ Allej. 


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INTRODUCTION. 


You reproach me, my child, for always telling you 
tales with a mournful ending ; or else stories, so long, 
so long, that slumber comes in the sweetest part. 
Thinlfyou, little one, that your old father can always 
have laughing thoughts, after so rude a winter ; after 
a spring so pale, so cold, so rheumatismal ? Whilst 
the sad north-wind moans through our old fir-trees, 
whilst the crane utters her cry of distress at the 
sound of the Angelus, saluting the pale and icy dawn, 
my thoughts are only of blood and mourning. Livid 
spectres dance around my fading lamp, and I rise in 
anxiety to drive them from your couch. But the 
time is no more, when children believed in spectres. 
You smile when w& relate to you the terrors and su- 
perstitions which encircled our infancy ; those le- 
gends of haunting spirits, which kept us waking and 
trembling in our beds till the dreary sound of Matins, 
lull you to peaceful sleep in your cradles. It is 
then a story quite simple, quite natural, which you 
wish for, young sceptic ? I will endeavour to recall 


INTRODUCTION. 


viii 

one which the Abbe Panorio related to Beppa, dur- 
ing my stay at Venice. He was of your opinion as 
to stories. He was satiated with the fantastic; and 
the confessions of old devotees had given him a hor- 
ror for sorcerers and visions. He was, besides, but 
little inclined to the sentimental. The tender pas- 
sions of romance seemed to him extremely weari- 
some ; but, like you, he felt interested in the reveries 
of lovers of nature; in the labours and tribulations 
of artists. His tales had always a foundation of his- 
torical reality ; and, if they sometimes made us sad, 
they always inculcated a useful moral, or a consol- 
ing truth. 

One beautiful summer night, by the full soft light 
of the moon of the oriental seas, seated under a flow- 
ery trellis, enjoying the sweet odour of the vine, 
and the jasmine, we were supping gaily, about mid- 
night, in the gardens of Santa-Margarita. Our party 
consisted of Assem Zuzuf, an honest merchant of Cor- 
• cyra. Signor Lelio, first singer at the theatre of La Fe- 
nice, the doctor Acroceronius, the charming Beppa, 
and the handsome Abbe Panorio. A nightingale was 
singing in its leafy cage, suspended from the trellis 
which sheltered our table ; whilst the ices went rcynd, 
Beppa tuned her lute, and sang with a voice even 
more melodious than that of the nightingale. The 
jealous bird often interrupted her with a precipitate 
roulade, a furious burst of melody, or lyrical decla- 


INTRODrCTION. 


IX 


mation ; then we extinguished the tapers, and the 
nightingale ceased its song, whilst the moon shed 
pale sapphires and glancing diamonds over the crys- 
tal and silver vases spread before us. The waves 
broke in the distance with a voluptuous sound upon 
the flowery shore ; and the wind brought to our ears, 
from time to time, the slow and monotonous recitative 
of the gondolier : 

Intanto la bella Erminia fugge, etc. 

Then the Abbe spoke of the bright days of the re- 
public, and the illustrious deeds of the times of his 
country’s power and glory; or he would take a plea- 
sure in recalling her hours of show and splendour. 
Although but young, the Abbe knew more of the 
history of Venice than the oldest of her citizens. 
He had studied it in her monuments and* records with 
the study of love. He delighted to seek in the po- 
pular traditions, details ofthe lives of great artists 
One day apropos of Titian and Tintoretto, he told 
us the incidents I will now endeavour to recall, if 
the soft wind which waves our willows, and the 
lark singing on high her song of ecstasy, are not in- 
terrupted by the storm blast ; and if the spring 
breeze, which half opens the buds of our indolent 
roses, and which warms my heart, will deign to 
breathe over us until to-morrow morning. 




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THE MOSAIC WORKEES. 


CHAPTER I. 

“ Believe me, Messer Jacopo, [-am an unfortu- 
nate father. Nothing can console me for this 
disgrace. We live in a declining age, and it is I 
who say so. The human race is degenerating. 
The spirit of good government is fading away in 
families. In my lime, every one used to try at 
least to equal, if not to surpass his ancestors. 
Now, so long as a fortune can be obtained, no 
matter how, no one objects to any degree of self 
derogation. The noble becomes a merchant, the 
master a journeyman, the architect a mason, and 
the mason a mere labourer. — Holy Virgin where 
will this end ?” 

So spoke Messer Sebastian Zuccato, a painter, 
who, though now forgotten, was then highly 
esteemed as the founder of a school of painting, to 
the illustrious master, Jacques Robusti, better 
knowm now under the name of Tintoretto. 

“ Ah ! Ah !” answered the master, who from 
habitual absence of mind, often answered with an 


12 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


? excess of sincerity, “it Is much better to be a 
good workman than a mediocre master ; a great 
artisan, than a vulgar artist.” 

“ Slop, stop, my good master,” cried old Zuc- 
•cato, a little piqued; “whom are you styling a 
vulgar artist, a mediocre painter? — the syndic of 
all the painters, the master of so many masters, 
<who make the present glory of Venice, and form a 
sublime constellation, in which you yourself are 
one of the bright particular stars, but where my 
pupil Tiziana Vecelli shines with no less lustre,” 

“Very well, Messer Sebastian,” answered Tin- 
toretto, coolly ; “ if such stars and such constel- 
lations enlighten the republic, if your school 
produces such masters, commencing by the sublime 
Titian, before whom 1 bow without jealousy, and 
without resentment, we cannot be living in such a 
declining age as you were mourning over just 
now.” 

“ Well, well,” said the sorrowful old man, a 
little imjtatienlly ; “ no doubt we live in a grand 
age for the fine arts. -But I can never console 
myself for having contributed to its grandeur, and 
being the last to-enjoy it. What avails it to me, 
to have educated a 'I'iiian if no one cares for it? 
W’ho will even know it a hundred years hence? 
Even now it is only known through this great 
man’s gratitude, who is always praising me, and 
calls me his dear comrade. But what is that 
even? — Why did it not please heaven to make me 
Titian’s father ? why he is not a Zuccato, or I a 
Vecelli ? Then at least my name would have 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


13 


lived from age to age, and perhaps a thousand 
years hence, the world would have said : ‘ The 
first of this name was an excellent master,* Whilst 
now, I have two sons as careless of the honour of 
my name, as they are faithless to the noble muses ; 
two sons, who, with their brilliant capacities, 
might have been my glory, might perhaps have 
surpassed Giorgione, Schiavone, the Bellinis, Paul 
Veronese, Titian, and 'I'intoretto himself .... 
Yes, 1 am not afraid of saying that, w’ith their 
natural talent, and the instruction which even in 
my old age I could give them, they might even 
now wipe olf their dishonour, quit the workman’s 
ladder, and mount the painter’s scaffold. My dear 
master, you must give me another proof of the 
friendship with which you honour me, by joining 
vour entreaties to those of 'fitian, in order to pro- 
duce some effect on my n)isguided children. If 
you would but save Krancesco he would influence 
his brother, for Valerio is a young man of no 
judgment, and I should say, w’ere he not my son, 
almost without talent, if he had not occasionally 
shown some when sketching fresco borders on the 
w'alls of my studio. But Checo is quite another 
being, he handles the brush like a master, and 
often suggests to the painters themselves those 
lofty conceptions which they, which even you, 
Messer Jacopo, as you have often told me, only 
execute. Besides, he is acute, active, persevering, 
restless, ambitious; be has all the qualities of ao 
artist. 1 cannot imagine bow he can so com- 
pletely have mi:>takeii his ccation. 

3 


14 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


“I will do as you wish,” answered Tintoretto, 
“ but first 1 will tell you my honest opinion as to 
your anger against your sons’ profession. Mosaic 
is not, what you style it, an ignoble trade, but a 
true art brought from Greece by skilful masters. 
It is an art of which we ought to speak with great 
respect, for it, and it alone, has preserved to us 
even more completely than painting on metals, the 
otherwise lost traditions of the state of design in 
the lower empire. If it has transcribed them in 
an altered and doubtful shape, it is not the less 
true that, without it, we should have lost them 
entirely. Canvass cannot withstand the ravages of 
time. Apelles and Zeuxis have left but their 
names. What gratitude should we not now feel 
to any generous artist, who had eternized their 
works by the aid of marble and crystal. Besides, 
the mosaic art has preserved to us entire the tradi- 
tions of colouring, and on this point, far from being 
inferior to painting, it has an undeniable Superiori- 
ty, — it resists the encroachments of time, as well 
as the injuries of the atmosphere.” 

“Pray why, if it resists them all so well,” said 
Zuccato hastily, “ is the senate obliged to repair 
all the dome of St. Mark, which now is as bare as 
my head I” 

“ Because at the time when those mosaics were 
done, Greek artists were rare at Venice, they came 
from a distance, stayed only a short time, and left 
the finish of their compositions to hastily instructed 
apprentices, who executed them without knowing 
their trade well, and who could not give their 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


15 


works the necessary solidity. Now, when the art 
has been cultivated for some ages we Venetians 
have become as skilful as the Greeks ever were, 
and the works of your son Francesco will go down 
to posterity, and his name will be blessed for 
having traced those unalterable frescos on the 
walls of our cathedral; the canvass on which Titian 
and Veronese have painted \he\i chef-d‘(£uvre will 
fall to pieces, and a day will come when our 
greatest masters will only be remembered through 
the mosaics of the Zuccali.” 

“It follows then,” said the obstinate old man, 
“that Scarpo, my shoemaker, is a far greater artist 
than the deity ; for my foot, though the work of 
Divinity, will fall to dust, whilst ray shoes may 
keep for ages the form and impress of my foot.” 

“ But the colour ! Messer Sebastian, the co- 
lour! your comparison is worth nothing. What 
substance worked by the hand of man can keep 
the colour of your flesh for an unlimited period! 
whilst marble and metal, being primitive and im- 
perishable substances, will retain even to their last 
grain of dust, the Venetian colouring, the flnestin 
the world, and before which Buonarotti and all his 
Florentine school must lower their flag. No, no, 
you are in error, Messer Sebastian and you are 
unjust if you do not rather say, Honour to the en- 
graver, preserver, and propagator of pure outline 
— Honour to the Mosaist, guardian and preserver 
of colour ?” 

“ Your humble servant,” said the old man, 
“thanks for your good advice, but for all that I 


16 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


beg yon will inscribe my name upon my tomb- 
stone witii the word ‘Painter,’ that it may not 
be forgotten by the next year that there was one of 
my name who handled the paintbrush and not the 
trowel.” 

“ But, Messer Sebastain,” said the good mas- 
ter detaining him, “ you have not even seen the 
last performances of your sons in the interior of 
the cathedral.” 

“God forbid that I should see Francesco and 
Valerio Zuccato hoisted by ropes like slaters, cut- 
ting enamel and working mastic.” 

“ But you know, my good Sebastian, that thes6 
works have obtained the highest eulogiums from 
the Senate, and very high recompense from the 
republic.” 

“I know well,” replied the old man, haughtily, 
“that there is mounted on the ladders of the ca- 
thedral of Saint Mark, a young man who is my 
eldest son, and who for one hundred ducates a-year 
has abandoned the noble profession of his fathers, 
in spite of the reproaches of his conscience and 
the conflicts of his pride, 1 know also that the 
pavements of Venice are trodden by my second 
Son, who to pay for his foolish pleasures and ex- 
pences has given up all pride, and actually takes 
wages from his own brother, and only quits the 
too extravagant dress of dissipation for the too 
humble apron of the workman, spending his eve- 
nings, playing the partrician in a gondola, and 
working the next day like a journeyman raasbn, 
to pay for the sapper and serenade of the past 


THE MOSAIC WOBKERL. . 17 

evening. This is what I know, Messer, and no- 
thing but this — ” 

“And 1 lepeat to you, Messer Sebastian,” replied 
Tintoretto, “ that you have two good and noble 
children, who are excellent artists, one industrious, 
patient, ingenious, excellent, exact, allowed by all 
to be a master of his art, whilst the other is ami- 
able, brave, and jovial, full of spirit and fire, less 
assiduous in his employment, but perhaps even 
more fruitful in grand ideas and sublime concep- 
tions.” 

“ Oh, yes,” replied the old man, “ and yet 
moit fruitful in words. I have had enough to do 
with those theorizers, who feel art as they call it, 
who explain it, define it, and exhalt it, but do not 
work for it ; they are the nuisance of the studios, 
they make the noise whilst others do the work. 
They think themselves of far too noble a race to 
work, or else they have so much talent they don’t 
know how to use it; the mere inspiration kills 
them, and in order not to be too much worn out by 
it, they chatter about art, or walk the streets from 
morning to night — apparently it is from the fear, 
least the inspiration of art and the work of his 
hands should injure his health, that Messfer Va- 
lerio my son, instead of working with his ten fingers 
lets all his intellect out by his lips. That boy 
has always made the same impression upon me 
that a canvass would, on which the first ideas of 
many subjects were sketched without any of them 
being effaced, and which thus in short time would 
present the strange spectacle of a multitude of in- 


18 THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 

coherent lines, each of which may have had some 
intention at first, but which the artist, at last lost 
in his own chaos, has never been able to resume 
or follow out.” 

“ I own Valerio is a little dissipated, and toler- 
ably idle,” replied the master; “I must admo- 
nish him again, in virtue of the paternal authority 
which he has himself yielded me, by betrothing 
himself to my little Marietta.” 

•^'And do you still suffer that pleasantry ?” said 
the old painter, trying to disguise the secret plea- 
sure of this information, confirmed by the mouth 
of Robusti himself, caused him: “can you per- 
mit an artisan, nay not even an artisan, an appren- 
tice, to aspire even jestingly to the hand of your 
daughter — Messer Jacopo, I declare to you that if I 
had a daughter, and Valerio Zuccato instead of 
being my son, were my nephew, I would not even 
let hirn dream of marrying her.” 

“"Qh, that’s my wife’s business,” replied Ro- 
busti, “-and will be my daughter’s, when she is 
old enough to be married. Maria has talent, a 
great deal off talent, I hope she will soon paint 
portraits, I shall notbe ashamed to sign, and which 
posterity- will actually ascribe tome; I hope she 
will make f6r herself a celebrated name, and con- 
sequently an illustrious position. An indepen- 
dent fortune is insured to her by my exertions. 
Let her then, if she chooses, marry Valerio, or 
even Bartholomeo Bozza, the apprentice cf the 
apprentice, she is not the less Maria Robastij 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


19 


daughter, pupil, and successor of Tintoretto. 
Some women can alford to marry for their happi- 
ness, and not for their interest. The young palrir 
cians of the present day are more inclined towards 
their pages, than towards the noble cavaliers who 
are offered to their choice.' Maria is a patrician 
also in her way. Let her then act like a patri- 
cian. Besides, do you know that the child really 
loves Valerio 

. Old Zuccato shook his head without replying, 
that his gratitude and joy might not betray itself. 
But the master could perceive that his temper was 
softened, and after a long discussion, in which Se- 
bastian defended himself inch by inch, but with 
less bitterness than at the commencement, he al-^ 
lowed himself to be led away to the cathedral, 
where the brothers Zuccato were finishing the 
grand mosaic of the dome just above the principal 
interior door. The subject was taken from the 
Apocalypse, and the designs werb by Titian and 
Tintoretto themselves. 


20 


M O'^ 


chapter.il 

When old Zuccato entered the oriental cupola, 
where on a gilded back-ground there appeared, like 
terrible apparitions, the colossal figures of the pro- 
phets and the apocalyptic forms invoked in their 
visions, he was affected by a superstitious awe, 
which, resisting his efforts to subdue it, made his 
feelings as an artist at first yield to those of reli- 
gion ; he crossed himself, saluted the altar, which 
was illuminated by golden lamps burning dimly 
in the distance, and depositing his plumed cap 
upon the marble pavement, he recited a short pray- 
er. When he had finished, he rose slowly from 
his kneeling posture, which the stiffness of his 
limbs, caused by age, rendered a painful one, and 
directed his attention to the figures of the four 
evangelists, which were the nearest to him. But 
as his sight was weak, he could only get an idea 
of the tout ensemble, and turning to Tintoretto, 
said : “ It cannot be denied that these great 
masses of colour produce some effect, but it is no- 
thing but mere charlatanism after all. Oh ! oh ! 
sir, there you are,” These last words were ad- 
dressed to a tall, pale young man, who, on hearing 
the echo of the cupola repeat the sharp and broken 
tones of his father’s voice, had descended hastily 






THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


21 


from his ladder in order to receive him. Fran- 
cesco Zuccato, after having^ combated gently and 
with moderation the prejudices of his father, had 
ended by following his vocation, and, avoiding 
fretfuent interviews which could only renew the 
subject of discord, was still on all occasions 
humble and respectful towards the author of his 
days.' In order to receive him more respectfully, 
he had hastily washed his face and hands, ^thrown 
off his working apron, and put on his silken robe 
ornamented with silver, which one of his appren- 
.tices brought him. In this costume he looked as 
handsome and elegant as the most fphionable 
young patrician. But his melancholy ‘brow and 
the gravity of. his smile bore the’ impression .of 
the noble cares, and the sacred pride of the 
artist, .1 

Old Zuccato gazed at him from head to foot, 
and resisting his paternal feelings, said ironically: 

“ Well, sir, what plan must we pursue, in order 
to be able to admire your chtfs-d' oeuvre^ If they 
were not, body and soul, S;0 completely part and 
parcel of the wall, we would ask you to lower 
one or two of them, but. you doubtless understand 
the interests of your own glory best, by placing 
them so high that no one can see them.” 

“ My father,” replied the young man modestly, 

“ the happiest day of my life would be that on 
which these humble productions should obtain an 
indulgent consideration from you, but your seve- 
rity is a far greater obstacle than any which sepa- 
rates you from the dome itself. If I could conquer 


22 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS, 


yoar repugnance, I have no doubt that, with my 
brother’s assistance, I could get you to the top of 
the scaffolding, whence you might easily embrace 
the coup d'oeilj and catch the design of the figures, 
which is concealed from you where you stand.p9 

“Your brother indeed!” replied the old grum- 
bler, “and pray where is your brother I Does he 
not deign to descend from his glass beadwork-hea- 
ven up there, to salute his father ?” 

“My brother has gone out,” replied Francesco, 
“ or else he would have hastened to put on his 
robe, and come with me to kiss your hand, but I 
expect him every moment, and he will be delighted 
to see you here.” 

“And I suppose as usual, he will come in sing- 
ing a drinking song, his cap on one side, his eye 
wandering, and his gait unsteady. A workman 
who frequents the tavern during working hours, 
would indeed be a trusty guide up all your ladders 
there !” 

“ My father, Valerio is not gone to the tavern. 
He has gone to fetch materials for our work. I 
have sent him to the manufactory at Murano for 
some specimens of enamel, which have been made 
expressly for me, and the exact shades of which 
are very difficult to obtain.” 

“ In that case you may make my compliments 
to him yourself, for there are two leagues between 
here and Murano, and he has the water* against 

♦ The reflux which is felt in the Lagoons at certain hours 
renders their navigation ditflcult. 


I 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 23 

% 

hira, which will answer his purpose two ways. 
The excuse may serve his turn for stopping to 
drink with his boatmen, and the oar will not fit his 
hand to-day better than the trowel.” 

“ Father, you have heard false reports of Va- 
lerio,” replied the young man eagerly. “ It is true 
he likes pleasure and Cyprus wine, but it does 
not interrupt his diligence. He is an excellent 
workman, and whenever 1 trust him to execute a 
commission, he fulfills it with an exactitude and 
intelligence w’hich leave nothing to be desired.” 

“ Valerio, here is Messer Valerio,” exclaimed 
from the top of the scaffolding, the apprentice 
Bartolomeo, who could see through one of the 
openings in the cupola, the arrival of the gondola 
at the Piazetta steps; and in a moment Valerio ap- 
peared, followed by his workmen, carrying a large 
basket full of the materials for their mosaic fabric 
and singing in a beautiful sonorous voice, wiinout 
much respect for the holy place he was in, the 
burden of a love song. 

But as soon as he saw his father he left off sing- 
ing, and taking off his -cap, advanced and saluted 
him, with the frankness and confidence of a soul 
W’hich knows no wrong. 

Zuccato was much impressed by his appearance, 
and his open and joyous expression. Valerio was 
the handsomest young man in Venice, He was 
not so tall, but stronger built, and more robust than 
his brother. At first sight, the only impression 
made by his beautiful countenance, was of its 
gaiety, frankness and courage. But after a little 


24 THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 

# 

attention, the sacred fire of genius appeared, though 
it was sometimes obscured by the gay indifference 
of his character, and also in some degree, ic»must 
be confessed, by the fatigues of his pleasure-seek- 
ing life, which made him a little paler than was 
natural to him. -This, however, formed but a va- 
riation of, and almost ennobled his extreme beauty, 
and moderated the fearless serenity of liis look. 
He was always extremely particular in his toilette, 
and set the fashion to the proudest young nobles 
in Venice. He was much sought after by them, 
and ladies of the highest rank, on account of his 
great talent for designing'embroidery, which was 
afterwards executed under his direction, in ffold 
and silver, on the richest materials. A velvet cap 
ornamented with an arabesque a la Valerio Zuc- 
cato, a fringe after his pattern, a cloth of gold 
mantle, the border embroidered in coloured silks, 
interlaced with chain-work, flowers, or foliage, 
after his Byzantine mosaics, were in the eyes of a 
high born dame, or young “ elegant,” objects of the 
first necessity. This employment, at once a relax- 
ation from his more serious labours and his plea- 
sures, was extremely lucrative, and was carried on 
at his workshops of St. Philip, and St. .lames, 
with a certain mystery, into which however every 
body w'as benevolently initiated. His pleasing 
appearaeoe, his fascinating manner, his acquaint- 
ance w’ith the young nobles of the city, and the 
joyous spirits of the workmen who filled his work- 
shop, naturally led him towards a life of pleasure, 
but his innate energy and extreme fidelity to hjs 


THE 3I0SAIC WORKERS. 


25 


# 

enoragaments preserved him ,from any excesses 
which would have ruined his genius. 

The most tender and generous friendship united 
the two brolherfj ; and now by their joint entreaties 
they vanquished the feigned reluctance of old Zuc- 
cato to mount their scaffolding, and placing a 
latlder on each side of the one on which he'ven- 
tured, they assisted him until he arrived safely at 
the last and highest stage. Tintoretto, who al- 
though already aged, was still hale and vigorous, 
and accustomed to use the large cupolas of the 
oathedral as his studio, followed them in order to 
witness the surprise of Sebastian. 

The sentiment of religious aw'e which the oM 
man had felt at first, gave way to involuntary de- 
light, when placed at the proper height for the full 
effect, he saw' the magnificent figures of the pro- 
phets and evangelists, and all the other completed 
parts of this vast and marvellous composition. 
Here the \seension of the Virgin, after the design 
of Salviati ; there the Resurrection of Lazarus, a 
fearful scene, where the, corpse seemed actually 
about to detach itself from the brilliant surface of 
the wall, the St. Mark of Titian, a magnificent 
figure supported by the crescent moon, and whose 
heavenward flight seemed almost appreciable by 
the eye; the festoons of flowers round the circle 
sustained by lovely winged cherubims, and, over 
all the Vision of St. John, w’here the condemned 
were seen precipitated 'into the flames of Hell, 
whilst the children of God, clothed in white gar- 
ments, and mounted on white coursers, w’ere lost 


26 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


# 

in the softened yet brilliant beauty of the upper 
part of the cupola, like a nest of cygnets conceal- 
ing themselves in the rosy mists of the morning. 

At first Zuccato tried to resist the impression 
these performances m”ade upon him, by attributing 
it to the effect of the varying, shifting light, to 
the favourable situation and imposing dimen- 
sions of the figures. But when Tintoretto ob- 
liged him to approach nearer, so as to appreciate 
the details, he was constrained to allow that he 
had never imagined the mosaic art susceptible of 
such perfection, and that the flying cheruhim sup- 
porting the garlands might rival in form and colour 
the pictures of the greatest masters. 

But miserly of his praise, and arguing against 
his own secret conviction, tlie old man insisted 
upon it that even now he could only see the merit 
of exactitude and patience; all the honour, said he, 
must return to the artist who traced the models for 
these groups, and designed the detail of these orna- 
ments. 

“ My father,” replied Francesco, with modest 
confidence, “ if you would deign to examine the 
designs you will, 1 think, at least accord us the 
praise of having displayed»someihing more than 
the bare fidelity of copyists.” 

“ For instance,” said Tintoretto, “ produce my 
designs for the Vision of the Apocalypse, and dis- 
play that artistic skill, that painter’s hand, which 
distinguishes Francesco and Valerio Zuccato from 
all other artists of their class.” 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


27 


Several of the designs were exhibited, and Se- 
bastian might have convinced himself of the 
science with which the Zuccati had rendered the 
intentions of the artists, tracing themselves the 
pure and elegant form of their subjects, and creat- 
ing their magnificence of colour from the simple 
sketch of the painter. Valerio, pressed by his bro- 
ther, owned himself the author of many small 
figures ; and then in his turn, speaking for Fran- 
cesco, he showed his father the figures of two of 
the archangels flying towards each other, one of 
which in green drapery was his own work, and the 
other in turquoise blue garments, was the compo- 
sition of Francesco himself, without the assistance 
of any painter. 

Zuccato gazed at these two figures, which were 
really as beautiful as any of those for which a 
model had been furnished. Francesco had given 
the features of his brother to his archangel, whilst 
Valerio’s archangel was the portrait of Francesco. 

They had employed materials of extreme beauty 
in this cherished work, and had placed it modestly 
in an obscure angle, where no careless ^observer 
would descry it. Old Zuccato remained long silent 
and motionless before this winged pair, and con- 
fused at seeingJthe error of his life so gloriously re- 
futed, was seized with a terrible ill-humour. He 
descended the ladders, coldly took his mantle from 
Valerio without deigning to utter a word of encou- 
ragement either to him or his brother, and hardly 
saluting Tintoretto himself, went with a firmer 
step than might have been expected from his ago 


28 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


towards the threshold, of the cathedral. But hardly 
had he reached the first step, when yielding to the 
yearning of his better nature he returned, opened 
his arms to his children, and pressed them to his 
bosom, shedding tears upon their beautiful heads. 




h 


29 


CHAPTER HI. 

“ Huzzah ! Huzzah ! how fast the work gets 
on! Some Mastic here, you little black monkey! 
Maso ! do you hear? Brother Vincent, what, in 
the devil’s name, do you keep all the apprentices 
' for? Send me one of your bearded seraphs there 
to help me a little. By Bacchus, if I throw my 
beetle at that great porpoise Maso, I am sure it 
will be a long time before the republic sees such 
an ugly figure again !” 

So bawled out from the top of his scaffolding 
the red-bearded giant, who was directing the re- 
pairs of the chapel of St. Isidojre, this part of the 
building being confided to Dominic Bianchini, 
nicknamed the Red, and his two brothers, com- 
petitors and rivals of the two Zuccatiin the mosaic 
art. 

“ Will you hold your noise, you great bell ? will 
you be patient you tower of red copper ?” replied 
the surly Vincent Bianchini, the eldest of the 
three brothers. “ Have not you got your own ap- 
prentices? Make them work,, and leave mine 
alone. Haven’t you got Jean Visentine; that pret- 
ty milk-cheese of the Alps? Where is Reazo 
gone ? — your horse J)ull, who sings so well 
in the choir on Sundays. I dare say all your ap- 
prentices are running from tavern to tavern, trying 


30 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


to get credit for a bottle of wine in your name, 
and if so, they will not be back again in a hurry.” 

“ Vincent,” said Dominic, “ it is well for you 
you are my brother and my fellow labourer, for 
with one kick I could overturn your scaffolding, 
and send your illustrious self and your interesting 
apprentices on the pavement!” 

“If you attempt it,” cried Gian Antonio, the 
youngest of the three brothers, in a sharp voice, 
shaking the ladder on which Dominic was work- 
ing, “ I’ll show you that the highest perch is not 
always the safest. Not thatrl care a bit more for 
Vincent’s bones'than^for yours, but I don’t like bul- 
lying, and for the last few days, mind you, you 
have taken up, sometimes with him, and some- 
times with me, a tone I can’t put up with.” 

The savage Dominic cast an angry glance at 
young Antonio, and allowed himself to be shaken 
on the ladder for some seconds without speaking. 
But as soon as Antonio was again occupied with 
his -cement under the portico, he went down, threw 
off his cap and apron, turned up his sleeves, and 
began to inflict upon him a rough punishment. 

The priest Alberto Zio, also a distinguished 
mosaist, who was on a ladder pursuing his occu- 
pation, on one of the pediments, hastened down 
in order to separate the combatants, and Vincent 
Bianchini, running quickly from the interior of the 
chapel, beetle in hand, mingled in the quarrel, 
more from resentment against Dominic than from 
any interest in Antonio. 

The priest, having vainly endeavored to bring 


ft 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS, 31 

them back to Christaia feelings, at last used an 
argument to addess them which rarely failed of 
Its effect. 

“ If tlie Zuccati hear you,” said he, “ they will 
rejoice at your quarrels, and think that it is their 
greater mildness and good understanding which 
makes their work superior to yours.” 

“ He’s right,” said Dominic the Red, taking up ' 
his apron; we’ll settle your quarrel in the eve- 
ning at the tavern. Just now’ we must not give 
our enemies any advantage over us.” 

The two other Bianchinl yielded to his advice, 
and whilst takirig up their fresh cement upon their 
trow’els, father Alberto entered into conversation 
with them : “ Yon are wrong, my children,” said 

he, “ to regard the Zuccati as your enemies ; they 
are your competitors, that is all. If they 
work upon different principles from yours, they 
still recognize the merit of your works. I have 
often heard their head apprentice, Bartolomeo Boz- 
za, say that your cement was of a superior qual- 
ity to theirs, and that the Zuccati willingly allow- 
ed it themselvs.” 

“ Oh, as for Bartolomeo Bozza,” said Vincent 
Bianchini, “ I say nothing against him, he is a 
good workman, and a good fellow enough. I 
would not object to getting him into my service. 
But don’t talk of these Zuccati ; there are no worse 
intriguers anywhere, and did their talent equal 
their ambition, they would soon crush all their ri- 
vals. Happily they are eaten up with indolence; 
the eldest wastes his time in imagining impossi- 


32 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


ble subjects, and the youngest carries en a con- 
traband trade at San Filippo, and spends the pro- 
ceeds with people above his own rank.” 

‘‘The star of the Zuccati may fall from the 
clouds some day though,” said the envious Domi- 
nic, “ notwithstanding all the protection the pain- 
ters give them, if one thought it "worth the trouble 
it would cost.”. * 

“ How so,” cried the two others, “ if you know 
any means of humbliug them, tell us, and we will 
forgive all your wrongs towards us.” 

“ 1 don’t care more about you than them,” said 
Dominic, “only I know it would not be impossi- 
ble to prove that they must apply their allowance 
in doing useless work, and thereby waste the rev- 
enues of the republic.” 

“ You are uncharitable, Messer Dominic,” said 
the priest, with severity. “If you speak in such 
a style of two men who are generally esteemed, 
you will giv^e rise to the suspicion that you are 
prompted by jealousy.” 

“ Well, and lam jealous,” said Dominic, stamp- 
ing his foot, “ VVhy should not 1 be jealous ? 
It is not a great injustice on the part of the Pro- 
curators to give them a hundred gold ducats, 
whilst we have only thirty although we have been 
working ten years at the genealogical tree of the 
virgin. I am sure if the Zuccati had worked all 
their lives, they would not have completed half 
so much. How many months does it take them 
to do the skirt of a robe, or a child’s hand? Just 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 33 

watch them a little, and see what their fine work 
costs the republic.” 

“ They do network so fast as you do,” said the 
priest, “ but then what perfection of design ! what 
richness of colour!” 

“If you were not a priest,” retorted Vincent, 
shrugging his shoulders, “you would be taught how 
to speak differentlyl you had better return to your 
confessional and censer, and not try to judge of 
things you know nothing at all about.” 

“ Messer Vincent, what do you mean,” cried 
the priest, a little offended. “.You forget I knew 
the trade before you did, and that I was the favour- 
ite pupil of the master of us all, the ingenious 
Rizzo, the worthy successor of the old masters in 
gypso plastic. 

“You may talk as much of ingenity as you 
please, hut by Christ there's no great amount of 
imagination wanted in mosaic work. It only 
needs what you priests and do-nothing Zuccati 
want, untiring arms, ribs, and sides of iron, pre- 
cision, and activity. Attend to your masses, fa- 
ther Alberto, and leave us alone.” 

“Hush,” said Antonio, “there’s that surly 
old Zuccato passing by. Look at his sons kissing 
his hands, and attending him cap in hand. Would 
not one think it was the doge attended by his 
senators I” . 

“ That savours of the Magnifico, and is rather 
too good a joke. 1 think — 

“ Silence,” said Vincent, “ here is Messer Ro- 
busti coming to look at our work.” 


# 

34 ..the mosaic workers. 

.'All three took off their caps more from respect 
for the master’s reputation, than from honour to 
his genius which they were incapable of appreci- 
ating. Father Alberto went to meet him, and 
took him into the chapel of St. Isidore. Tinto- 
retto gave a look round at the frescoed pannels, 
praised the repairs of the ancient Greek mosaics 
which had been entrusted to the priest, and retired, 
saluting theBianchini without speaking to them, 
for he neither valued their productions nor esteem- 
ed their characters. 


35 


CHAPTER IV. 

When the day’s work was over, and the Zuc- 
cati had supped with their principal apprentices, 
Bozza, Marini and Ceccato, (who afterwards be- 
came excellent artists,) at a little tavern, where 
they were accustomed to meet when the oecupa- 
tions of the day were concluded, Valerio was 
going to look after his own affairs, either of busi- 
ness or pleasure, when he was stopped by his 
brother, who said to him : 

“ For once, dear Valerio, you must sacrifice a 
part of your evening to me. I always retire early, 
you know, and you will have plenty of time af- 
terwards.” 

“Willingly,” said Valerio, “but on condition 
that we take a gondola and row about a little, for 
I ar^ worn out with the day’s work, and must rest 
from one fatigue to another of a different charac- 
ter.” 

“I cannot help you" to row,” said Francesco 
“for 1 have not your robust health, my dear Val- 
erio, and as I must not incapacitate myself for to- 
morrow’s labour, 1 must not over fatigue myself 
to-night, but if I refuse you this relaxation, I see 
I shall scarcely get the two or three hours of your 
company which I wish for; and therefore 1 will 


36 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


ask Bozza to join us, he is a worthy fellow, and 
will not be an intruder in the conversation,” 

Bartolomeo gladly accepted the offer, and ha- 
ving engaged one of the best looking gondolas, 
he took one oar, and Valerio the other. Standing 
at the two extremities of the little vessel, they 
made her bound over the foaming w’aters. 

’It was the hour when all the,^,gay world of 
Venice was absoad on tl.e Grand Canal to en- 
joy the freshness of the evening. The little 
boat glided rapidly among the gondolas, like a 
wild sea-bird seeking refuge from the sportsman 
in the shelter of protecting sea-weed. But, not- 
withstanding the agility and silence of the row^ers, 
all eyes were upon them ; ladles bent'forward on 
their cushions to get a longer look at the hand- 
some Valerio, whose skill and grace excited envy 
in both I itricianand gondolier, and whose appear- 
ance was a singular mixture of audacity and 
candour. Bozza, too, was a strong and well-made 
youth, although thin and pale. A dark fire burned 
in his black eyes, a thick 'beard covered half his 
face; but though his features were deficient in 
regularity, they drew attention by their sad and 
disdainful expression. Thin and pale, also, but 
noble, not arrogant, melancholy, not disdainful, 
Francesco Zuccato, lying on the black velvet 
diishion of the gondola, leaning negligently on his 
elbow, and plunged in a reverie too deep even to 
see the crowd, shared unconsciously the admira- 
tion of the ladies, which Valerio excited. 

'When they had reached the termination of the 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


37 


Grand Canal, they floated idly through the lagunes, 
tar from the frequented parts, and keeping the 
shore on their lee, they lay down on the cushions, 
and talked at their ease beneath a heaven spark- 
ling with unnumbered stars. 

“My dear Valerio,” said the elder Zuccato, “I 
am again going to annoy you with my remon- 
strances; but, indeed you must promise me to 
lead a wiser liie.” 

*“ Y ou can never annoy me, my beloved brother,” 
said Valerio, “ and I am always most grateful for 
your solicitude; but I cannot promise you to 
change. The life I lead suits my fancy^ I am as 
happy as a man can well be. Why do you, who 
love me so much, wish me to abstain from happi- 
ness ?” 

“ This life will kill you,” exclaimed Francesco, 
“It is impossible to withstand, as you, do at the 
same time, pleasure and fatigue, labour and dissi- 
pation.” 

“On the contrary, this kind oClife animates 
and invigorates me,” replied Valerio, “ What is 
life, as it proceeds from the hand of God, but a 
continual alternation of enjoyment and privation, 
fatigue and activity ? Let me alone, Francesco, 
and do not judge of my strength by yours. If is 
certainly one of Nature’s inconsistencies not to 
have given the strongest constitution, or the great- 
est capacity for enjoyment, to the more estimable 
of our two characters; but you have so many other 
advantages over me, dear Francesco, that you need 
not envy me these.” 


4 


38 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


“1 do not envy them,” said Francesco, though 
they are the most precious of all, and the most 
necessary for our perfect appreciation of happi- 
ness. 1 delight in thinking that my brother, who 
is dearer to me than myself, is free from the lassi- 
tude and ennui which often devour me ; but this is 
not the only point. Valerio, you certainly care 
somewhat about your station, the friendship of 
illustrious artists, the protection of the Senate, the 
favour of the Procurators . . . 

*‘I, brother!” cried the volatile young man, 
“ except the friendship of our dear Master Titian, 
and the kindness of Robusti, two men whom I 
venerate deeply ; except the love of my father and 
that of my brother, whom I prefer to all the world, 
1 care little for any thing else, and I need nothing 
but a couple of bottles of Scyros w’ine to console 
me for the loss of my employment, and the dis- 
pleasure of the Senate.” 

“ You care at least for honour,” said Francesco, 
gravely, “for the honour of your father’s name, 
and your own, for which I, myself, am guarantee.” 

“ Certainly,” exclaimed Valerio, hastily raising 
himself on his elbow, “ but what can you mean 1” 

“ To tell you that the Bianchini are conspiring 
against us, and that they may make us lose not 
merely the advantageous position and rich salary, 
which two bottles will so amply compensate you 
for, but the confidence of the Senate, and even the 
esteem of the citizens.” 

“Evohe!” exclaimed Valerio, “I should like 
to see that. Let us go to the Bianchini, if it be 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


39 


€0, and give them a fair challenge. They arc 
three, but our friend Bozza will make our third. 
Our’s is a good cause; we will make a vow to the 
Madonna, and behold us delivered from these 
traitors.” 

“ That is folly,” said Francesco, Divine power 
will not declare itself in favour of the aggressors, 
and such we should be, if we challenge men 
against whom at present we can prove no cause of 
offence. Besides, the Bianchini would but meet 
our offer of a fair fight, with the assassin’s dag- 
ger. — They are dangerous adversaries, they will 
not offend us operdy, whilst we are protected by 
powerful friends, and as soon as their hate is 
openly declared, our ruin is sealed. In fact I am 
already anxious, — Vincent, generally so polite 
towards me, already neglects the usual salutation 
when I pass his scaffolding. This very morning, 
whilst reconducting our father through the cathe- 
dral, I saw the Bianchini observing us maliciously, 
and turning us into ridicule. Their hatred, long 
concentrated in the depth of their hearts, now 
shows itself in every glance. Bozza can tell you 
that often, after the day’s work is over, or in the 
morning, when he has chanced to arrive the first, 
he has caught Dominic or Vincent Bianchini on 
our scaffolding, looking at the smallest details of 
our work with the most scrupulous attention.” 

“ All this does not prove much — if they do not 
salute you, it is because they are naturally rude; 
if they looked malicious this morning, it was be- 
cause they envied us for having a good father; if 


40 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS, 


they examine our work, it is most likely they are 
endeavouring to discover the cause of our supe- 
riority. Are these motives for disquietude 

“ Why then, instead of speaking to Bozza, as 
would be but natural when he meets them upon 
our scaffolding, do they retire hastily by the oppo- 
site ladders, as though they had just committed a 
bad action 1” 

“ If I meet them there,” cried Valerio, clenching 
his fist, “ they had better give some explanation, 
or by Bacchus, I will make them descend a little 
quicker than they went up.” 

“ That would only widen the breach. To re- 
venge the one you had punished, the two others 
would pursue you to the death. Believe me, the 
noblest means are also the most polite. Let us be 
prudent and retain the high position of honourable 
men. Our generosity may perhaps soften them ; 
at any rate it will clearly prove them to be in 
the wrong, and if they persecute us, we shall 
obtain justice.” 

“ But brother, what persecution can they raise 
against us ? What power have they to injure us ? 
Can they prove that we do not work better than 
they do I” 

“ They can say that we do not work so fast, 
and that is very easy to prove.” 

“ And we can prove that it is easy to work fast 
when one works badly, and that no perfect work 
will brook precipitation.” 

“ That is not so easy to prove. Between our- 
selves, the Procurator-Cashier appointed for the 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


41 


examination of works of art, is not much of an 
artist. He sees nothing in mosaic work, but an 
application of little pieces of coloured stones more 
or less brilliant. The truth of the colouring, the 
beauty of the design, or the intention of the com* 
position signify nothing to him. He only sees 
what strikes iho vulgar eye, the quickness and 
brilliancy of the work. Did I not vainly attempt 
the other day, to make him comprehend that the 
^ old pieces of gold crystal which had already been 
employed by our ancestors in their works, and 
were slightly tarnished by time, were far more 
suitable to the colouring than those made at pre* 
sent 1 * You do very wrong, Messer Francesco,’ 

said he, ‘ to yield all the newly gilt crystal to the 
Bianchini. The commissioners had determined 
that the old should be used mingled with the new, 
and I cannot understand why you should have 
preferred the old. If you think the mixture of the 
new and old would not produce a good effect, you 
are setting yourself up for a better judge than the 
commissioners themselves.’ ” 

“ Yes, and you nearly made me laugh outright,” 
interrupted Valerio, “ when you replied to him, 
with such a serious air, ‘ Monsignor, 1 have no 
such insolent pretension.’ ” 

“ But did I not vainly endeavor to show him,” 
replied Francesco, “that the brilliancy of the new 
gold injured the effect and spoiled the shading of 
all the other colouring, which could only be thrown 
up , by the reddish tinge of the old gold, and that if 
I had chosen the new and brilliant pieces, I must 
*4 


42 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


have made my flesh-colours too purple and with- 
out roundness, and the robes without folds and 
without any shading ?” 

“He gave you,” said Valerio, laughing, “a 
very unanswerable reason in a very dry manner, 
‘The Bianchini,’ said'he, ‘do not give themselves 
half so much trouble, and their mosaics are far 
finer to the eye than yours.’ After such a reason, 
why need you trouble yourself. Leave out the 
shading, leave out the roundness. Make the skirts 
of the robes out of one great mass of enamel, and 
cover St, Nicholas’s stomach with it; make St, 
Cecilia a fine head of hair out of a badly baked 
tile, make St, John the Baptist’s lamb out of a 
handful of quick lime, and the Procurators will 
double your salary, and the public will clap their 
hands. Pardieu! why should you, who think so 
much of fame, persist so obstinately in the worship 
of art!” 

“ I do think of fame, it is true,” said Francesco, 
“but it is of a lasting fame, and not the vain 
popularity of the day. I would wish to leave an 
honoured, if not an illustrious name ; and that 
those who see the cupola of St. Mark five hundred 
years hence should say — ‘ This was the work of a 
conscientious artist !’ ” 

“ And what makes you think that the public 
will be more enlightened five hundred years hence 
than nowl” said Bozza, in his hollow voice, 
breaking silence for the first time. 

“There will always be great minds to revise 
and direct the popular judgment, and it is the great 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


43 


men of all times whom I wish to please. Is that 
an unworthy ambition, Valerio?” 

“ It is a noble ambition ; but it is ambition, and 
all ambition is a malady of the soul,” replied the 
younger Zuccato. 

“A malady,” answered Francesco, “without 
which no great intellect could flourish, without 
which it must languish in the shade without en- 
lightening the world. It is the wind which fans 
the spark, raises it to a flame, and extends it far 
and wide. Without this vivifying breeze there 
would be no warmth, no light, no life.” 

“I do not feel very death-like,” cried Valerio, 
“ and yet this breeze has never blown upon me. 1 
feel the spark of life always glowing in my breast 
and in my brain. But provided that I am warmed 
by its divine glow, and that I feel the life within 
me, what does it matter to me, whether the light 
emanates from me or elsewhere ? All light has 
one divine origin. What signifies the halo round 
a human head ? Glory to uncreated geniqs ! The 
glory of man is no more in himself than the sun is 
in the water which reflects his image.” 

“ It may be so,” replied Francesco, raising his 
large dark eyes full of tears towards heaven. 
“ Perhaps it is but a folly and a vanity to think 
more of oneself, because, by having in thought ap- 
proached the ideal, one has become capable of 
realizing the beautiful better than the common 
herd, — and yet, for what should man glorify him- 
self, if not for that?” 

“ Why should man glorify himself at all ? Pro- 


44 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


vided he enjoys himself, is not that happiness suffi- 
cient ]” 

“ And is not glory the most sensible, the most 
exciting, the most intense of man’s enjoyments 1” 
said Bo/iZa, turning his glance towards Venice. 

It was the hour when the Queen of the Adriatic, 
like a beauty adorning herself with diamonds for 
a ball, began to display her many lights, and long 
garlands of fire were reflected in the tranquil 
waters, like jewels in an admiring mirror. 

“ You do not make a right use of words, friend 
Bozza,” said Valerio, disturbing the phosphores- 
cent water with his oar, and scattering a shower 
of pale light round the black sides of the bark. 
“The most intense of human enjoyments is love; 
the most sensible is friendship; the most exciting 
is indeed glory ; but why say only exciting ] Say 
rather, poignant, terrible, and dangerous.” 

“ But may it not also be said that it is the most 
elevated V’ said Francesco. 

“ I can never think so,” replied Valerio, “ that 
which is in itself sweetest and noblest in life, is to 
love; that is indeed to conceive, to feel the true 
ideal. We must, therefore, love everything which 
approaches it, seek it everywhere, take the nearest 
approach to it — ” 

“ That is to say,” answered Francesco, “ em- 
brace a phantom, seize a shadow, fix an illusion, 
and adore the spectre of one’s own phantasy; is 
that what you term to enjoy, and to possess ?” 

“ My brother,” said Valerio, “if you were not 
sick at heart, you would not speak so. The man 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


45 


who whilst on earth desires a better life than this, 
must be either eaten up by pride or an ingrate who 
suffers. There is enjoyment for all who possess 
the spirit of love! Were there only friendship on 
the earth, man ought not to complain. Had I only 
you in the world, I should still bless heaven. I 
can imagine none better; and had God permitted 
me to create myself a brother, 1 could not even 
have imagined one more perfect than Francesco. 
Ah ! God himself is the only great artist, and what 
we ask from him in our wildest dreams, is not 
worth that which he gives us in his unchangeable 
wisdom.” 

“ Ah ! my dear Valerio,” exclaimed Francesco, 
embracing his brother, “ you are right ; I am proud 
and ungrateful. You are worth us all, and are the 
living proof of the truth of your theory. Yes, I 
am, indeed, sick at heart ! Cure me by your ten- 
derness ; you, whose soul is so strong and so pure. 
Holy Virgin ! pray for me; I have, indeed, been 
culpable to have indulged melancholy with such a 
brother at my side.” 

“And yet,” said Valerio, smiling, “the pro- 
verb says, no great artist is free from melancholy.” 

“ Nor from hatred,” said Bozza, gloomily. 

“Oh, a proverb is always half false,’’ said 
Valerio, “ for every proverb having its opposite, 
says truth and falsehood at once. Francesco is a 
great artist, and yet I would wager soul and body 
that he has never knowm the feeling of hatred.” 

“ Never towards others,” said Francesco; “ to- 
wards myself I have often, that is the evil effect of 


46 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


rny pride. I am always pining because I am not 
better and more skilful that I am. I wish to be 
admired for my merits, and not because of my 
sufferings.” 

You are and must be loved for both,” exclaim- 
ed Valerio, “ but it is possible that all men are not 
formed to be contented with affection alone. Per- 
haps, without the craving for admiration, there 
would be neither great artists nor chef oeuvres. 
The admiration of those otherwise indifferent to 
us, is a friendship wj^iich need not interest us much, 
and yet we find it indispensable ; and the very 
need felt for it proves that it must serve some great 
end in the designs of God.” 

It serves to make us suffer, and God is sove- 
reignly unjust,” said Bozza, throwing himself 
back in the gondola with a gesture of despair. 

Do not say so,” said Valerio. “ Look, my 
dear comrade, how beautiful is the sea just under 
the horizon. Listen to the sweet sighing of that 
guitar. Have you no fair mistress 1 Bartolomeo, 
do you forget that we are your friends 1” 

^‘You are great artists,” said Bozza, and I 
am but an apprentice.” 

“ Does that prevent our loving you 1” 

It ought not to prevent your loving me, but it 
prevents me from loving you as I might do if I 
were your equal.” 

Pardieu ! if that were any reason,” said Vale- 
rio, ^ I should love scarcely any one, for I have but 
the mere title of an artist, and am in truth but an 
artisan. All those I most love and cherish are far 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS 


47 


above me, beginning with my brother, who is my 
master. My father was a good painter. Vecelli 
and Robusti each of them is a Colossus, before 
whom I am as nothing; nevertheless 1 love them, 
and never dream of repining at my own inferiority. 
Artists! artists, ye are all children of the same 
mother, and her name is Envy. More or less ye 
all share her qualities, and that consoles me for 
being nothing better than a scapegrace.” 

“ Say not so, Valerio,” said the elder brother ; 
“ if you deigned to take more trouble you would 
be the first mosaistof the age; your name would 
efface that of Rizzo himself, and my name would 
be after yours.” 

“For which I should be very sorry. No, by 
St. Theodosius, may you always be first. Sacred 
indolence ! preserve me from such a fatiguing ho- 
nour !” 

“Do not utter such blasphemy, Valeiio ; art 
ought to be above all other interests T’ 

“ Whoever loves art loves glory,” said Bozza, 
with his deep voice, always sad and lugubrious as 
the sound of a deep bell in the midst of a joyous 
strain, and whoever loves glory is ready to sacri- 
fice everthing to it.” 

“ Many thanks ! as for me, I will never sacrifice 
anything to it. Aw'ay with the harlot ! And yet 
I love art, you know it well, although they say 1 
care for nothing but love and wine. 1 must love 
it well, or 1 should not sacrifice to it half of a life 
which I feel vigour enough to devote entirely to 
pleasure. 1 am never happier than when at work. 


48 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


If I succeed I could throw my cap over the tower 
of St. Mark. If I fail, I am not discouraged ; and 
even the speciestof anger I feel against myself, is 
yet a pleasure of the game kind as one feels in a 
restive horse, a stormy sea, or a fiery wine. But 
the approbation of others does not stimulate me 
more than a reverence from the Bianchini. When 
Francesco, my other self, says, ^ that is well done,’ 
I am satisfied. When my father, whilst looking 
at my archangel, smiled in spite of himself, though 
frowning at the same time, I was happy. And if 
the Procurator does say that Dominic the Red 
works better than I do, so much the worse for the 
Procurator ! but I shall not carry my compassion 
to the point of shedding tears. If the good people 
of Venice find that 1 do not put enough brick-red 
in my flesh colour, nor enough ochre in my dra- 
peries, all hail to their^ dictum ! If you were not so 
foolish I could not laugh so much at you, and that 
would be a pity, for I laugh with my whole 
heart.” 

“ Happy, thrice happy indifference !” said Fran- 
cesco. 

Whilst thus conversing they approached the city. 
.When they were near the shore, “ Before I quit 
you,” said Valerio, “ we must understand each 
other. Of what do you complain! What is it 
you require of me 1 That I should cease to divert 
myself! You may as well try to hinder water 
from flowing !” 

^^That you should divert yourself with less 
publicity,” replied Francesco, ‘^and that you 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


49 


should renounce for some time, at least, your work- 
shop at San Filippo. These circumstances may 
be interpreted unfavourably. People are already 
asking how so many arabesque designs, and so 
many other occupations can be compatible with 
the necessary quantity of labour in the cathedral. 
Did 1 not know your indefatigable activity, I could 
not understand it myself; and if I did not see your 
works advance, 1 could not believe that two or three 
hours’ sleep, after nights of pleasure and gaiety, 
would suffices workman confined all day at a labo- 
rious occupation . Prevent your numerous acquain- 
tances, and above all, those gossipping young 
patricians, from coming to visit you so frequently 
at the cathedral. Such an honour wounds the self- 
love of the Bianchini ; they say these young people 
make you waste your time ; that they take you from 
your labour to attend to trifles ; for instance, that 
joyous brotherhood which you are Just going to in- 
stitute, and which is agitating all the tradesmen in 
the city.” 

“ Alas!” cried Valerio, “ it is precisely for that 
I am in such a hurry to quit you this evening ; 
they are waiting for me to regulate the costume. I 
cannot draw back, and you promised on your ho- 
nour, Francesco, to be of the party.” 

“ 1 promised on condition that the affair did not 
take place until after St. Mark, when I hope my 
cupola will be finished.” 

“ I mentioned that both for you and myself ; but 
you may imagine that two or three hundred young 
men, anxious for pleasure, will not willingly lis- 


60 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


ten to the reasons of one who is only eager for 
work. They declared that if we refused to join 
them immediately, the association must break up; 
that nothing could be done without me, and then 
they reproached me, saying that I had .led them 
on, that expenses had been entered into, and the 
fete announced, and that such a long delay would 
give all the other clubs a triumph over them. In 
a word, they said so much, that I engaged both 
for you and myself to inaugurate the banner of the 
Lizard in a fortnight. We are to commence by 
running at the ring, and then we are to have a 
magnificent repast, where each member will be 
expected to introduce a young and beautiful 
lady.” 

“ But do you not think these follies will retard 
your work ]” 

“ All hail to Folly ! but I defy her to prevent 
my working when work-time comes. There is a 
time for everything brother, so I must count upon 
you I” 

“ You may inscribe my name, and I will send 
my subscription by you, but I cannot go to the 
fete. It must not be said that the two Zuccati 
amuse themselves at once. It must be seen that 
while one diverts himself, the other works for 
two.” 

“ Dear brother,” cried Valerio, embracing him," 
“ I will work for four the evening before, and you 
must come to the festival. It will be a superb 
fete, and for a noble end ; entirely plebian and 
brotherly. It shall no longer be said that the 


THH MOSAIC WORKERS. 


51 


Patricians aione have the right of amusing them- 
selves, and that workmen can only get up clubs of 
devotees. No, no, the artisan is not always to 
be doing penance. The rich fancy that we are 
born for nothing but to expiate their sins. And 
you, Bartolomeo, you must be one of us : 1 shall 
inscribe your name; it will cost you a little ex- 
pense, but if you have not the money now, I have, 
and 1 will manage everything. Adieu, dear 
friends, till to-morrow. Dear brother, you must 
not say I do not listen to your advice, with all the 
respect due to one’s elder. Now, confess you are 
contented with me?” 

As he spoke, Valerio leaped lightly on to the 
shore by the ducal palace, and disappeared under 
the changing shadows of the colonade. 


52 


CHAPTER V. 

The same evening Bozza, returning from a 
visit to his mistress, more sad, more gloomy than 
ever, tired of love, of labour, and of life, vras walk- 
ing quickly along the solitary shore. A high 
wind had risen, the waves beat against the mar* 
ble quays, and mysterious voices seemed murmur- 
ing words of hatred and malediction under the 
dark arcades of the old palace. 

Suddenly he found himself in front of a man, 
whose heavy and resounding steps had not before 
been able to rouse him from his reverie. By the 
light of a lantern attached to one of the mooring 

tubers, Bozza and the other nocturnal promena- 
der recognised each other, and stopping face to 
face, they measured each other from head to foot; 
Bartolomeo thinking the man might have some 
bad design, put his hand upon his dagger, but 
contrary to his expectations, Vincent JBianchini 
(for it was he) lifted his cap, and accosted him 
with courtesy. 

Vincent, like his brother Dominic, was a vulgar 
companion and a bad man. Less brutal in ap- 
pearance, and capable, notwithstanding his want 
of education, of assuming tolerable manners, pro- 
foundly cunning, and hardened in lying by the 


.THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


53 


many infamous examinations he had suffered be- 
fore the Council of Ten ; he was certainly the 
most dangerous of the three Bianchini. 

“Messer Bartolomeo,” said he, “ I have just 
come from a place, where I had expected to meet 
you, but where I am very glad you had not, as I 
had, the curiosity to slip in unperceived.” 

“I do not know what you wish to say, Messer 
Vincenzo,” replied Bozza, with a slight bow, en- 
deavouring to pass by, 

Vincent measured his pace by Bozza’s, without 
seeming to perceive the desire which the other 
showed of avoiding him. 

“ You know* without doubt,” said he, “ that the 
principal members of the new association have 
been assembled to deliberate upon its laws and 
admissions to membership.” 

“It is very possible,” replied Bartolomeo, “but 
that matters little to me, Messer Bianchini, I am 
not a man of pleasure.” 

“ But you are a man of honour, and that is the 
reason why I rejoice not to have seen you amongst 
the auditors of this momentous deliberation.” 

“ What do you mean 1” cried Bozza, stopping. 

“I mean to say, brave Bartolomeo,” replied 
Vincent, “that had you been there, things would 
have been differently managed ; and, perhaps, 
there would have been some little noise about it. 
But, perhaps it is better as it is, for such a trifling 
affair is not worth — ” 

“Stop! speak plainly, Messer, I beg of you,” 


54 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


interrupted Bozza, impatiently; “did anything 
pass touching my honour 1” 

“ Why, not personally, perhaps ; but it was ra- 
ther an universal affront, of which you have your 
share. This is what occurred. You know the 
new company is being formed after the example 
of the otherw«!, of members chosen from different 
corporations, which rival each other in riches and 
talent. Into this one in particular it was intended 
to receive all those workers in glass whose riches 
and love of pleasure would induce them to wish 
to join. Architects, and glass blowers, founders, 
and mosaic workers; in short, all trades who are 
concerned in the repairs of the cathedral were to 
furnish their candidates. That point settled, it 
remained to register the names of these jjandidates; 
and the originators, having at their head your mas- 
ter, Valerio Zuccato, met together for this purpose. 
But would you believe that this artist, so celebrat- 
ed for his agreeable manners and popularity, has 
shown himself full of disdain and haughtiness 
towards most of the proposed admissions. Yes, 
truly, he refused admission to gentleman and sena- 
tor, declaring that whoever had not taken up mas- 
tership in some profession or other, was not wor- 
thy of being admitted into this club. Many 
objections were raised ; and many even ventured 
to say that some apprentices had more economy 
and talent, and consequently more money and 
more merit than their masters ; but to this he 
would not even listen; and he expressed himself 
in terms so vain and so harsh, that he affronted 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS, 


55 


every one. Just then 1 happened to be near him 
without his seeing me, and some one said to him, 

‘ But if you succeed in this, shall not you regret 
the exclusion of Bozza, that good comrade who 
works so well, with such a good character, and 
80 much attachment for you and your brother.’ ‘ If 
my apprentice,’ replied Messer Valerio, Ms ad- 
mitted into the company, I shall retire.* But 
nevertheless the majority carried it. Apprentices 
are to be admitted, provided they are considered 
by the assembly worthy of soon taking up master- 
ship in their respective professions.” 

Bozza did not answer, but Vincent Bianchini 
who observed him closely, saw by his agitated 
step, and the contraction or his arms beneath his 
mantle, that he was violently mortified. 

Nevertheless he contained himself, for he did 
not give absolute credence to the words of Bian- 
chini, who seeing that he must not let the wound 
close, said in an indiflferent manner, “ It is a pity 
after all that such a young man, otherwise amiable 
and well-disposed, should be so puffed up with 
vanity. His frequent intercourse with the Patri- 
cians must be the cause of it. It is injurious to 
an artist to associate with a rank above his own.” 

“ There is no class above the artist,” replied 
the young apprentice, with some asperity; ‘‘if 
Valerio esteems anything more than his art, he is 
not worthy of the title he bears.” 

^^This foolish vanity,” replied Bianchini, ‘Ms a 
family disease. Sebastian Zuccato despises his 
children, because he is a painter, and they are 


56 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


mosaists. Francesco, the eldest son, who is the 
first master in his art, despises his brother because 
he is only the second master, and he despises his 
apprentice . . . 

Do not say that he despises me, Messer,” 
said Bozia, in hollow voice. He dares not ! 
Say not that I am a despised man, or by Christ I 
will teach you the contrary !” 

“ Being despised by a fool,” rejoined Bianchini 
with the calmness of hypocrisy, “ would only re- 
dound to your credit. There are some people 
whose esteen is an insult !” 

But that is not the case between Valerio and 
me,” replied Bozza, endeavouring to struggle 
against the vipers which were gnawing his heart. 

“ 1 hope not,” replied Vincent ; “but yet I can- 
not imagine what it was ho said to the person who 
first mentioned your name, for he whispered in his 
ear, and I could only Judge what it was about 
from the manner in which he drew down his cap 
over his eyes, and pulled his cloak collar up to his 
ears, in order to mimic you. He frowned and im- 
itated your gesture, which made the confidant of 
his foolish jests almost die with laughter.” 

“ And pray, who was it that dared to laugh ?” 
cried Bozza, pulling, in spite of himself, his cap 
down upon his brows, clenching his fist, and stri- 
king his breast, the very gesture which according 
to Bianchini, Valerio had been turning into ridi- 
cule. 

“ Faith, I can’t tell you,” replied Vincent. “ I 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


57 


could not see his face, because, according to his 
custom, Valerio had assembled a numerous audi- 
tory round him, greedy of his sallies. When 1 
succeeded in passing through the crowd, Valerio 
had changed his listner, and was speaking of 
something else, but they were still laughing in the 
place he had quitted.” 

“It is well, Messer Vincent,” replied the young 
man, deeply wounded, “ I am obliged to you 
for having told me this ; perhaps 1 shall find an 
opportunity of recompensing you.” 

Speaking thus, Bozza hastened his steps, and 
Eianchini followed with his eyes, his black plume 
agitated by the wind. After losing sight of him, 
and applauding himself for having pierced the cui- 
rass at the first blow, he remained for a long time 
immovable upon the shore, absorbed in thoughts 
full of hatred and perversity. 


58 


CHAPTER VI. 

The sun had hardly gilded the summits of the 
white cupolas of St. Mark, and the gondoliers of 
the Grand Canal were yet sleeping on its shore 
by the Leonine column, when the cathedral was 
already filled with workmen. The apprentices 
arriving first, raised the ladders, selected the ena- 
mels, mixed the cement, singing, whistling, and. 
chatting, in spite of the grief and indignation of 
Father Alberto, who in vain tried to make the 
thoughtless young men recollect the sancity of the 
place, and the presence of the Lord. 

But if the exhortations of the priestly mosaist 
were not productive of much effect in the grand 
cupola, where the schoolof the Zuccati pursued 
their labours, at any rate he might satisfy his zeal, 
and quiet his conscience by long and severe repri- 
mands. Never was he interrupted by gross lan- 
guage or insulting laughter, for if these pupils 
partook of the gaity, ardour, and vivacity of their 
Master Valerio, they shared also his kindness and 
respect for old age and virtue. 

But things passed very differently in the chapel 
of St. Isidore, where the Bianchini family, sur- 
rounded by fierce undisciplined apprentices, could 
scarcely maintain order by furious bellowings and 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


59 


frightful menaces. When an obscene song reach- 
ed the ears of Alberto, he could do nothing but 
cross himself, and his grief found vent in stifled 
exclamations and profound sighs. But when tow- 
ering above all the low conversations and brutal 
invectives which the apprentices bandied about, 
the terrible voice of Dominic the Red came thun- 
dering through the echoing arches of the cathe- 
dral, the poor priest was often obliged to stop his 
ear with one hand, and hold himself steady on his 
ladder with the other, to avoid falling. This morn- 
ing the masters themselves arrived very early, and 
commenced their labours almost as soon as the ap- 
prentices. St. Mark’s day was approaching, when 
the cons.ecration of the cathedral was to be sftem- 
nized, as it had been entirely renovated, and or- 
namented with fresh pictures by the first masters 
ef the age. Judgment was now to be passed on 
all its decorations, after ten, sixteen, or twenty 
years of assiduous labour, without favor or with- 
out prejudice. It was to be an important day for 
all concerned, from the first painter to the mere 
journeyman; from the architect himself, with his 
sublime calculations, to the untaught labourer who 
cut the stones and mixed the mortar. Emulation, 
jealousy, joyous expectation, or sinister fear, every 
good and bad passion, with which in all arts and 
trades men are inspired by the thirst of glory and 
of gold, raged unceasingly in those aisles echoing 
with a thousand sounds. Here an oath, there a 
joyous song; further off a quolibet; above, the 
hammer; beneath, the trowel ; one while the hoi- 


01 ) 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


low noise of the tools on the mosaic, and then the 
clear and glassy sound of the crystals falling from 
the basket upon the pavement like little streams 
of rubies and emeralds; now the frightful noise of 
the scraper on the cornice ; and now the sharp and 
piercing sound of the saw cutting the marble, not 
to mention the nasal intonation of the masses re- • 
peating in the various chapels, in spite of all the 
confusion; the ticking of the clock, the heavy 
vibration of the bells, and the cries of various do- 
mestic animals, imitated by the younger appren- 
tices to such perfection, as to induce Father Al- 
berto, who was always duped by this ruse, to turn 
his ^ad away from his labour, which he never re- 
sumw without crossing himself, in expiation of 
what he was pleased to call his levity of spirit. 

If he disciples of the Zuccati were milder and 
more innocent in their diversions than those of the 
Bianchini, they were hardly less noisy. Frances- 
co rarely imposed silence on them. Absorbed in 
his occupation, the patient and melancholy artist 
was quite deaf to all the tumult of his noisy work- 
shop ; and .provided that the work went on well, 
he never opposed a gaiety which delighted Vale- 
rio, and stimulated his ardour. Valerio was, in 
fact, the idol of his apprentices. Although he 
was continually spurring them on, and often in 
pretended anger, rallied them with facetious criti- 
cism ; in reality, he loved them like his children, 
and charmed away all their fatigues by his contin- 
ual vivacity. Every day he had some new and 
grotesque story to tell them, every day he had a 
new song more amusing than the last. Did one 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


61 


of them make a mistake, and er.deavour to deny it 
through self-love, or defend it through obstinacy 
and ignorance, he made merriment at his expense, 
and sometimes daubed his face with his paint 
brush. But if an attentive pupil was sincerely 
sorry, or secretly blushed for an involuntary error, 
Valerio went to him, took his tools, and in a few 
minutes repaired the fault, encouraging him by 
kind words, or by keeping silence, that the morti- 
fied apprentice might not have the retharks of his 
comrades drawn down upon him. It may be truly 
sard, that if Francesco was loved and respected, 
Valerio was adored, and that his apprentices would 
almost have thrown themselves from the tower of 
St. Mark, for his sake. 

Bartolomeo Bozza, always cold and silent, was 
the only one who shared neither in this enjoyment 
nor enthusiasm. Francesco set great store by his 
work, which was always regular and solid, and 
on the correctness of his manners. His melan- 
choly appeared a cause for sympathy, and he felt 
pleasure in fancying that this gloomy and myste- 
rious youth concealed the future of a great artist. 
As for Valerio, although he found little that was 
agreeable in Bozza, yet his own disposition was 
kind enough to make him imagine in the other all 
the good qualities which he had himself. 

Although Bozza was usually at his work even 
before the other apprentices, this morning he was 
more than an hour after sun sunrise. He was 
more pale and wan than usual, .more silent and 
gloomy than they had ever known him. 


62 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


He had not had a moment’s sleep. All night 
he had wandered like a spectre through the dark 
and crooked streets, his hair hung straight over 
his hollow cheeks, his beard was in disorder, and 
the plume of his cap was broken by the winds. 
He took in silence his apron and his tools, and his 
place near Valerio, who was at work on the fes- 
toon of his arch. Francesco had noticed the tar- 
dy arrival of his apprentice, but Bozza was usually 
so exact, that the master avoided making any ob- 
servation upon this faglt, the first he had commit- 
ted during the three years of his apprenticeship. 

Valerio, always communicative, and prompted 
by kind solicitude, did not fear to question him. 

“ What is the matter, comrade I” said he, sur- 
veying him from head to foot with astonishment; 
“ you look just as though you had been buried 
alive last night. Give me your hand, that I may 
know it is you, and not your ghost.” Bozza pre- 
tended not to hear, and did not reply to this appeal 
of the friendly outstretehed hand. 

“ Have you been gambling, Bartolomeo? Were 
you unlucky last night ? Is it that w'hich sad- 
dens you? Come, you must not mind it; as for 
money, do not think of that, you know my purse 
is yours.” 

f3ozza did not reply. 

“Ah well! perhaps it is not that; your mis- 
tress has deceived you, or you have ceased to love 
her, which is still worse. Never mind, you must 
make a beautiful Madonna, who shall resemble 
her, and whose kind looks will be eternally fixed 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


63 


on you. Perhaps you have an enemy, do you 
wish me to be your second in a duel? I am ready. * 

“ A great number of questions, truly, Messer 
Valerio,” replied Bozza, in a low smothered, yet 
bitter tone. “Is it come to such a point, that for 
an hour’s delay, your apprentices must suffer a re- 
gular cross-examination, and render an account of 
their conduct?” 

“Oh!” cried Valerio, quite astonished, “you 
are in an ill-temper, my poor friend ; 1 hope by and 
bye, when that fit is over, you will do more jus- 
tice to my intentions.” He went on with his la- 
bour, whistling, and Bozza commenced his with a 
delay and affectation of nonchalance, which Vale- 
rio would not gratify him by observing. 

When two hours had passed, and Bozza saw 
that he had not succeeded in irritating Valerio, he 
changed his plan, and began working rapidly, 
without paying any attention to the materials he 
used, and confounding colour in the most bizarre 
and extravagant manner. Valerio looked furtively 
at him for some moments. He was muched as- 
tonished at his obstinacy, but as it was the first 
time such a thing had happened, he resisted his 
first feeling of anger, determining to do the w’ork 
of his apprentice over again,, saying to himself, 
“after all it is but a day lost for both of us.” 

But notwithstanding this generous resolution, 
and in spite of the efforts which the kind Valerio 
made to avoid even throwing a glance upon the 
misapplied labour at which Bozza was working 


64 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


away with so much bitterness, the very noise of 
his tool had something in it feverish and exciting^ 
and the young master found it necessary to with- 
draw, if he did not wish to give way to the provo- 
cation of his apprentice. Valerio felt his con- 
science at ease, and Bozza’s conduct appeared un- 
natural, and caused him more compassion than an- 
ger. Brave, but at the same time patient and gen- 
erous as the lion, he quitted the scaffolding, put 
on his black silk robe, and went to breathe the 
fresh air a moment in the court of the cathedral 
adjoining the ducal palace, one of the most beauti- 
ful specimens of architecture in the world. 

After a few turns, he thought himself calm 
enough to return to the gallery, but just as he ap- 
proached the Giant’s Stairs, he met Bozza, face to 
face. The same feeling of anguish which had de- 
voured Valerio, whilst concealing his anger, had 
gnawed the bosom of Bozza, whilst endeavoring 
in vain to enrage-his rival. 

When Valerio left to free himself from this mute 
torture, his feelings had become so acute that he 
could not resist them. Each moment seemed an 
age, and suddenly carried away by an impulse of 
irresistible hatred, he followed Valerio’s steps, 
and rejoined him on the spot where two hundred 
years afterwards the head of Marino Faliero fell 
under the axe. All Valerio’s anger was at last 
excited, and the two young artists, immovable and 
with wild sparkling eyes, remained undecided for 
a few tnoments, each awaiting provocation from 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS, 


65 


his adversary, like two mastiffs, growling furiously 
with bristling hair, ready to spring upon each 
other. 


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:bu ‘^1 'r/'* !>i7vn| J 


66 


CHAPTER VII. 

However gross were the artifices which Vincent 
Bianchini employed, the spirit of observation with 
which he was gifted by nature, and the perfect 
knowledge which he had of the follies and weak- 
nesses of men, often served him better than the 
superior talents of others. He had a profound 
and irrevocable contempt for human nature. Deny- 
ing the power of conscience, he hated mankind ; no 
degree of corruption startled him, and a feeling of 
simple goodness never entered into his calcula- 
tions. It is true that his unfavourable opinions 
were often justified, but it is equally true that as 
the storm-wind only breaks the tree whose sap no 
longer flows, and whose stalk has lost its vigor, 
so the wicked suggestions of Bia'nchini only tri- 
umphed over hearts where the sentiment of bene- 
volence, the sap of life, flowed sparingly, and was* 
interrupted in its course by the violence of con- 
tending passions. A feeling of cowardice pre- 
vented him from openly attacking the noble and 
generous. He was only acquainted with the dark 
side of human nature, and this mournful know- 
ledge rendered him even rash in the exercise of his 
duplicity. His very daring to improvise so gross 
a lie, proved that he foresaw, that Bozza, by na- 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


67 


tore self-absorbed and distrustful, would never 
seek for an explanation. Bozza, without feeling 
the slightest love for deceit, hated frankness. 
His greatest torment was his enormous self-love, 
eternally being mortified, and eternally suffering. 
Bianchini well knew that every effort of his will 
was concentrated to conceal this weakness, and 
that the fear of betraying it, was what kept him 
taciturn, and incapable of all expansion in answer- 
ing to any explanation which would have obliged 
him to lay bare any part of his secret soul. If he 
ever partially unbosomed himself to Francesco, it 
was because, observing his melancholy and fancy- 
ing it arose from the same cause as his own, he 
mistrusted him less than any one else ; but he was 
quite deceived; the melancholy under which Fran- 
cesco laboured, although showing the same symp- 
toms, was of quite another character. As for Vale- 
rio, not being able to understand him, Bozza took 
refuge iri decoying him. He was persuaded that 
his happy indiflferencc was a perpetual affectation 
assumed in order to gain friends and partisans, and 
to get on by the favour of the great, and it was 
this error which had caused Bianchini’s ruse to 
succeed. 

•When Bozza found himself in the presence of 
Valerio, although not in the least cowardly, his 
courage vanished. The very wish he felt to re- 
proach him, with his imagined conduct of the 
evening before, yielded to the fear of showing how 
much his pride was wounded at such a puerile 
offence; he felt that true dignity required him to 


68 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


despise or to seem to despise it, and suddenly 
repressing his anger outwardly, he reassumed his 
cold and disdainful air. 

Valerio, much astonished at the sudden change 
in his attitude and physiognomy, broke silence first 
by asking what he wished to say to him. 

“ I wish to say, Messer,” replied Bozza, “ that 
you must seek another apprentice; 1 quit your 
school.” 

“ Because I” asked Valerio, with the impatience 
of a frank disposition. 

“Because 1 feel a wish to quit it,” replied 
Bozza ; “ ask me no more,” 

“ And by informing me thus abruptly,” demand- 
ed Valerio, “ do you wish to wound me?” 

“Not at all, Messer,” replied Bozza, coldly. 

“ In that case,” replied Valerio, exercising great 
control oyer his indignation, “ you owe it to the 
friendship which I have always testified for you, 
to inform me of the reasons for your departure.” 

“There is no question about friendship here, 
Messer,” said Bozza, with a bitter smile; “that 
is a thing not to be lavished, and a sentiment 
which cannot exist between you and me.” 

“ Possibly you have never felt it for any one,” 
said Valerio, much hurt, “but I felt it sincerely for 
you, and have given too many proofs of it for you 
to deny them.” 

“Yes, you have indeed given me proofs,” re- 
turned Bozza, ironically, “ which it will be diffi- 
cult for me to forget.” 

Valerio, quite astonished, looked at him fixedly ; 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


69 


he could hardly believe in so much bitterness, and 
did not wish hastily to believe it the language of 
hatred. 

“Bartolomeo,” said he, hastily, “seizing his 
arm and drawing him into the galleries, “ you 
have something on your mind ; I must have given 
you offence involuntarily; if such is the case, 1 
swear upon my honour that it was quite uninten- 
tional ; and that I may prove my words, tell me 
what it is.” 

There was so much frankness in the accent of 
the young man, that the apprentice thought that it 
was possible Bianchini might have been playing 
on his credulity, but at the same time he felt more 
than ever the need of concealing his extravagant 
susceptibility, and the sentiment of his own weak- 
ness made the generous sincerity of Valerio more 
humiliating to him. His heart, closed to affection, 
felt no yearning to reply to these advances. “ If 
Bianchini has lied to me,” thought he, “if Va- 
lerio did not despise rne this time he has despised 
me every day of his life, and he must despise me 
even now whilst offering his protecting friendship, 
and the pardon of a fault. Since I have so far 
spoken out, I must persist.” For some time Boz- 
za had disliked his association with the Zuccati, 
and resolved to break it. 

“You have never offended me, Messer,” re- 
plied he coldly. “ Had you done so, I should not 
merely quit you, I should demand satisfaction.” 

“ And I am ready to give it, if you persist in 
thinking so,” said Valerio, who could not help 
being aware of the dissimulation of his pupil. 


70 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


“ There is no need of that, Messer ; and to prove 
that if I do not seek a quarrel, it is not from any 
timidity, I will give you a reason for my departure 
which may very probably displease you a little.” 

“Say on,” said Valerio, “the truth should al- 
ways be told.” 

“It is then, Messer,” said Bozza, in the most 
pedantic and contemptuous tone he could assume, 
“ a question of art, and nothing more. Possibly 
this may make you smile; you who despise art, but 
I, who care for nothing else in the world, 1 must 
own to you that 1 am a man who could sacrifice 
the most agreeable connections to my desire of 
improvement, and of speedily becoming a master. 

“I do hot blame that,” said Valerio, “ but how 
am I any’ bar to your progress? Have I neglected 
to instruct you, and instead of employing you, as 
other masters would have done, in mere journey- 
man’s work, have 1 not always treated you as an 
artist? Have 1 not furnished you with all possible 
means of progress, by confiding to you important 
and difficult works, and showing you the best 
methods, as though you had been my own bro- 
ther?” 

“ I do not deny your complaisance,” replied 
Bozza, “but though you may think me vain, 1 
must confess to you, Messer, that the methods 
which to you seem the best, do not satisfy me at 
all. I do not only aspire to be the first in my art, 
hut also to introduce into this art itself, as yet im- 
perfect, a progress for the accomplishment of 
which I feel myself inspired. Permit me, there- 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


71 


lore, to free myself from your system, and to fol- 
low my own. A voice within me commands me 
to do so. It appears to me that I am destined for 
something higher than to follow in the steps of any 
one. If I fail, do not regret me; if I succeed, yon 
may depend upon my aid and my councils.” 

Valerio, who was too entirely destitute of vanity 
to feel that this speech was composed solely in the 
hope of mortifying him, repressed the great desire 
he felt to laugh. He had often perceived Bozza’s 
extravagant self-love, and now he thought he must 
be under the influence of some delirious fantasy. 
This seemed to explain the agitation he had seen 
in him all the morning, and remembering how- 
much suffering such a feeling brought with it, he 
was generous enough not to rally him openly. 
“ But even then, my dear Bartolomeo,” said he 
smiling, “ it seems to me that you would be much 
more able to improve us, and that we should be in 
a better position for receiving your counsels, were 
you still to remain with us. As you are never 
interfered with in your work, nothing can prevent 
you from innovating and perfecting it at your 
leisure. If you cause our art to progress, I can 
safely promise that, far from hindering you, I 
shall be most happy to profit by it on my own ac- 
count. 

Bozza could not help feeling that, in spite (f his 
complaisance, Valerio was rather mocking him., 
Vexed at having wished to be provoking, and only 
having been ridiculous, he lost all control over 
himself, and kept replying so sharply, that at last 


72 THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 

Valerio lost all patience, and ended by saying, 
“ Indeed, my dear fjiend, if that fine performance 
of yours this morning was the revelation of your 
genius, 1 should prefer art to retrograde in my 
hands, rather than to make such progress in yours.” 

“ It is quite evident, Messer,” said Bozza, irri- 
tated at seeing all his petty vengeance recoil upon 
himself, “that you were not duped by the pretexts 
which I thought of this morning as a cause for 
our separation. I wished to displease you, merely 
that I might be dismissed, and thus spare you the 
mortification of being quitted. 1 am sorry thatyou 
have not appreciated this generosity, and that you 
force me to say openly that I will not remain 
another hour in your school.” 

“ And the true reason of your departure remains 
impenetrable?” asked Valerio. 

“No one has any right to ask it,” replied Bozza. 

“I might force you to fulfil your engagement,” 
said Valerio, “ for your agreement was to labour 
under my direction until the ensuing St. Mark’s 
day, but 1 do not choose to be served by constraint 
— Be free.” 

“ I am ready, Messer,” said Bozza, “ to offer 
y^u any indemnity you require, and I fear nothing 
80 much as remaining your debtor.” 

“ You must however resign yourself to it, said 
V<ilerio, returning his parting salutation, for I am 
not much disposed to accept anything from you.” 

llius the master and apprentice parted. Va- 
lerio watched him depart, and traversed the galle- 
ries in great agitation, and then suddenly struck 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


# 


73 

with sorrow at the thought of so much coldness 
and ingratitude, he returned to his labour, his face 
bathed in tears, 

Bozza, on the contrary, went to visit his mis- 
tress, and was kinder to her than usual. He felt 
quite light-hearted, almost gay. His heart seem- 
ed freed from a heavy load, the obligation of grati- 
tude, always insupportable to the proud. He felt 
as though about to triumph over all the past, and 
to enter with flying colours upon the glorious 
independence of the future. 



7 . 


74 


a 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Bozza was by no means an artist without merit. 
Far superior to the Bianchini, who were only 
skilful and diligent workmen, he had received 
from the Zuccati exact notions of design and co- 
lour. His outline was correct and elegant, his 
tone was not deficient in truth, and in rendering 
the brilliancy and richness of a stuff, perhaps he 
surpassed even Valerio himself. But if by study 
and perseverance he -had succeeded in giving all 
the material effects of art, he was far Worn having 
stolen from heaven that sacred fire which gives life 
and being to the productions of art, and constitutes 
the superiority of genius over talent. 

Bozza had too much intelligence, and had sought 
with too much anxiety the secret of this superior- 
ity in others, not to be aware of his own deficien- 
cy, and to labour assiduously to conquer it. But in 
vain did he try to communicate to his figures the 
touching grace, or sublime enthusiasm which ani- 
mated those of the Zuccati. He succeeded only in 
representing physical emotion. In the scene 
from the Apocalypse, his figures of the condemned 
and the demons were extremely well executed ; 
but there his triumph stopped; he had not been 
able to give to his emblems of hate and discord, 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


75 


the intellectual sentiment which ought always to 
characterize religious images. 

The damned appeared to be tormented by the 
fierceness of the flames which devoured them; no 
feeling of hate or despair was expressed in their 
features, which were contracted only by fury. 
The rebel angels retained no trace of their divine 
origin. All regret for their lost grandeur seemed 
smothered by a frightful irony, and while contem- 
plating their impure features, their ferocious mirth, 
their tortures which reminded one of the inquisi- 
tion rather than the judgment of God, one felt less 
emotion than astonishment, less terror than disgust. 

Notwithstanding these defects, appreciable only 
by superio^.intelligence, Bozza’s work had good 
qualities, a'fed the Zuccati were well aware of his 
power when they employed him. But whenever 
he attempted more noble subjects, he completely 
failed. His majestic movements were stiff, his 
inspired figures grimaced ; in vain did his angels 
agitate their powerful and brilliant wings, their 
feet seemed invincibly fixed in the cement, and 
their looks had no other splendour than that of the 
enamel and marble. 

The disappointed .painters could not recognise 
their own ideas in the nevertheless faithful execu- 
tion of their designs, and the Zuccati were forced 
to retouch laboriously all that in these figuers con- 
stituted the sentiment or the signification of the 
moral life. Since the scene from the Apocalypse 
had been finished, Bozza had therefore been em- 
ployed on the great festoon of the arch, and, as 


76 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


he thought servilely copying ornaments was un- 
worthy of him,Jhe|had suffered secretly all the ago- 
nies) of humiliated pride. It had, however, been 
with gentleness and extreme delicacy that the Zuc> 
cati had pointed out the necessity of leaving sa- 
cred subjects for more skilful hands, and of finish- 
ing the details of the dome, whilst waiting till 
subjects fitted for his kind of talent were confided 
to their school. Bozza set little value on the pri- 
vate lessons of drawing and painting which the 
Zuccali gave him in their leisure hours. He 
thought nothing more important in the world than 
the care of his future glory, and secretly reproached 
Valerio for that love of pleasure which hindered 
all his spare moments from being dedicated to his 
improvement, and blamed Francesco for pursuing 
serious studies on his own account, which some- 
times forced him to abridge his lesson or to put it 
off to the next day. He persuaded himself that 
his masters, fearing to be surpassed by him, de- 
prived him of the*means of rapid instruction, that 
they might profit longer by his work; and he gave 
himself up in his secret soul to all the misery of 
suspicion and resentment. At other times, and 
these instants were yet more cruel, he opened his 
eyes to conviction, and perceived that, notwithi 
standing the excellent lessons and the disinteres- 
ted counsel given to him, he did not make the pro-» 
gress which he ought to have made ; he felt bit- 
terly all the defects of his work, and asked him- 
self fearfully whether, allowing fora certain por- 
tion of talent, he was not doomed to be for ever 
powerless. 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


77 


He understood what was wanting in him, but 
could not realize it. His hands always seemed 
to translate into the vulgar tongue, the lyrical as- 
pirations of his brain ; and he almost believed in 
the jealous interference of infernal powers over his 
destiny. Valerio had often said to him, “ The 
greatest obstacle to the developement of your fa- 
culties is the inquietude to which you give your- 
self up. Nothing grand or beautiful can bloom 
without the fertilizing breath of a warm heart and 
a free spirit. Health of body and soul are both 
necessary to produce a healthy work, and that 
which emanates from a sick brain has not the vi- 
tality of life. If instead of spending your nights 
dreaming of the delights of fame, you were to 
pass them happily with your beloved one; if in- 
stead of shedding the withering tears of ennui, 
you wept with tenderness and sympathy on the 
bosom of a friend ; if in those hours when fatigue 
prevented you from working or discerning colours, 
instead of fatiguing your sight and wasting your 
energy, you would seek in the amusements of your 
age and the innocent pursuits of youth, a means 
of renewing the strength of the artist by giving it 
another direction for some time, I think you would 
be surprised on your return to work, to find your 
heart to beat strongly, and all your being transport- 
ed with an unknown joy and a victorious hope. 
But you contrive to be always sad, always sinking 
under the burden of existence; how then can you 
expect to give to your work the vitality which is 
not in yourself? If you continue thus, all the re- 
1 * 


7a 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


sources of your genius will be destroyed before 
you have made use of them. By eternally con- 
templating the end and exaggerating the prize of 
the victory, you will forget the sweet sensations 
and the pure joys of the production. Art, in re- 
venge for not having been loved for its own sake, 
will only reveal itself afar to your dazzled and de- 
ceived eyes; and if you happen by extravagancies' 
to obtain the empty applause of the crowd, you 
will not feel in yourself the generous satisfaction 
of the conscientious artist ; who smilingly con- 
templates the ignorance of his Judges, and who 
consoles himself for his poverty provided he may 
shut himself up in a garret or a dungeon with his 
muse, and enjoy with her delights unknown to the 
vulgar.” The unhappy artist felt the truth of 
these observations deeply, but instead of seeing 
that Valerio uttered them in the simplicity of his 
soul and with a sincere desire to put him into a 
good method, he attributed to him the unholy sen- 
timent of a secret joy, and a cruel contempt at the 
sight of his sufferings. Discouraged and despe- 
rate, he exclaimed, “It is but too true, Valerio, I 
am lost; I am consumed as a torch blown about 
by the winds before 1 have cast my lustre or fur- 
nished my light. You know it well, and you do 
but probe the wound ; you know the secret of your 
strength, and of my weakness. Triumph, then ; 
humble me, despise my dreamings, destroy my 
hopes, ridicule even ray desires. You have known 
how to employ your energy, you have guided the 
courser, you have conquered him, 1, — I excite 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


79 


him unceasingly, and carried away by him, I shall 
be overcome by the first obstacle.” 

In vain did the two Zuccati endeavour to ap- 
pease him and renew his hope; he repulsed their 
solicitude; and mortified by their compassion, con- 
cealed his unhappiness far from all regard and all 
consolation. Seeing that their friendly counsels 
served but to augment the suffering of his irritated 
spirit, the two young masters had gradually ceased 
to speak to him of himself; Bozza concluded 
therefrom that they loved him no longer, and that 
they were afraid of his profiting too much by their 
good advice. The unhappy necessity of abandon- 
ing a noble and interesting work, to finish by a 
given time trifling ornaments, had put the finish- 
ing stroke to his anger. He had come to the re- 
solution of quitting them as soon as his engage- 
ment had expired, for he no longer hoped that they 
would propose him for the mastership, as they had 
the right to do at the end of their engagement with 
the Procurators. This privileg was only extend- 
ed to one pupil in the year ; and his young com- 
anions, Ceccato or Marini, seemed to him to be 
more highly estimated by the Zuccati than himself. 
He thought of going to Ferrara or to Bologna to 
propose himself as a master, and to form a school; 
for though one of the last at Venice, he might 
hope to be one of the first in a city less rich and 
less illustrious. His quarrel with Valerio had in 
his eyes, therefore, the double advantage of restor- 
ing him to liberty, and giving him the opportuni- 
ty of revenge. The works were not yet completed, 


80 THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 

St. Mark’s day was approaching ; every instant 
was being counted. Both schools redoubled their 
adour not to be behindhand with their engage- 
ments. The absence or the departure of an ap- 
prentice was at this time a real loss, and seriously 
endangered the success of the unheard of efforts 
which had been made up to this time, not to be 
surpassed by the rival school. 


81 


CHAPTER IX. 

It was not long before the Bianchini perceived 
the absence of Bozza, and the melancholy of Va- 
lerio. Vincent related his artifice of the previous 
evening to his two brothers with a brutal laugh ; 
and all three encouraged by this first success, re- 
solved to neglect nothing which might hinder the 
completion of the works in the great cupola, and 
thereby ruin the Zuccati. After holding a tavern 
consultation, therefore, Vincent sought for traces of 
Bozza, and found him towards night in those great 
orchards which extend along the Lagunes in the 
suburb of St. Clara. Bozza was slowly walking 
by the side of a green hedge intermingled with 
fruit trees, which drooped caressingly over the 
calm waters. Profound silence reigned over this 
leafy city, and the last tints of evening were fad- 
ing slowly over the rustic steeple of the island of 
Certosa. On this side i\\e physiognomy oi Venice 
is at once as naive and pastoral as it is coquetish, 
proud, or terrible in other situations. Nothing 
touches there but boats full of herbs or fruit; there 
is no noise but that of a gardener’s rake, the spin- 
ning wheel of the women sitting in the midst of 
their children round the hot houses, or the convent 
docks sounding the hours with clear and almost 


82 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


woman-like tone, with nothing to iflterrupt their 
long and melancholy vibration. There, in other 
days, came Childe Harold, seeking an explanation 
of those secrets of nature, grace, mildness, charm, 
repose; mysterious words, which nature, power- 
less or pitiless for him,' translated into languor, 
sadness, ennui^ despair. There Bozza, insensible 
to the benign influences of the delicious evening, 
was watching the rapid flight and desperate com- 
bats of the great sea-birds» who every evening 
disputed for their last chance of prey, or hastened 
to arrive at their secret haunts. This spectacle of 
combat and inquietude was the only one in which 
he felt any sympathy. Every where the conquer- 
ed seemed to him a personification of his rivals; 
and when the conqueror screamed forth his cry of 
rage and triumph, he could have imagined himself 
rising on those vast pinions towards the object of 
his insatiable desires. 

Bianchini accosted him first with a great affec- 
tation of frankness, and after telling him that for 
some time he had perceived the evil inventions of 
the Zuccati towards him, begged to know, under 
the seal ofj secresy, whether he had definitively 
made up his mind to quit their school. 

“ There needs no secresy on the point,” said 
Bartolomeo ; “ it is not only a thing resolved upon, 
but a thing done.” 

Bianchini expressed his pleasure with some 
reserve, and assured Bozza that he might have 
etopped ten years with the Zuccati without the 
least chance of a mastership, and cited the exam- 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


83 


pie of Marini, who was a young man of talents, 
and had worked with them for six years, with no 
other recompense than a modest salary, and the 
title of “ companion.” “ Marini flatters himself,” 
said he, “that he will become a ‘master’ on the 
next 6>t. Mark, according to the promise of Messer 
Francesco Zuccato, but — ” 

“ Did he promise him positively ?” said Bozza, 
his eyes sparkling. 

“In my presence,” said Vincent. “Perhaps 
they promise you the same thing. Oh ! promises 
cost nothing to the Zuccati ; they treat their ap- 
prentices as they treat the Procurators, with more 
words than deeds. They have plenty of fine 
speeches to explain to their dupes, that art demands 
a long noviciate; that it ruins an artist, even in his 
prime, to deliver him to the caprices of his own 
imagination j that the greatest talents often fail by 
being too soon freed from the servile copy of mo- 
dels, etc. In fact, what will they not say I They 
learned by heart in their father’s studio, when he 
had a studio, five or six wise sayings, which they 
had heard from Titian or Giorgione, and now they 
fancy themselves masters in painting, and speak 
like oracles. Really it is so ridiculous, that I 
cannot help wondering how your great Devil in 
the Apocalypse, that morceau so perfect in itself, 
so comically treated, so well horned, and so good 
humoured, that I can never look at him without 
laughing, does not detach himself from the wall, 
and give them with his lion’s tail a good box on 
the ears when they preach doctrines so ridiculous, 
and so out of place in their mouths — ” 




84 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


Although Bozza was mortified by this vulgar 
praise bestowed upon his ‘choicest morctau^ a 
figure which he had designed to render terrible 
and not grotesque, yet he felt a secret joy to hear 
the Zuccati ridiculed and depreciated. When Bian- 
chini believed he had gained his confidence by 
soothing his mortification, he offered to take him 
into his school, and promised him a very superior 
salary to that which, he had received from the 
Zuccati, but he was surprised by the only reply 
being a refusal, and by not seeing the least sign of 
satisfaction upon Bozza’s countenance. He be- 
lieved that the young apprentice merely held back 
to obtain higher terms. Bianchini could conceive 
no otherjaim in the life of an artist, no other hope, 
no other glory, than gold. After vainly trying to 
tempt him by large offers, Vincent renounced the 
desire of engaging him, and assuming a totally 
disinterested*manner, he endeavoured, whilst flat- 
tering and conversing with him, to penetrate the 
cause of his refusal, and the hidden objects of his 
ambition. This was not difficult. Bozza, so sus- 
picious and reserved, that the most generous friend- 
ship could never draw from him the secret of his 
weakness, yielded like a child to the seductions of 
the grossest flattery ; praise was to him like the 
air he breathed, deprived of which he must suffer 
arid die. 

When Bianchini saw that his only thought was 
to obtain a mastership, and to enjoy its privileges, 
the authority, the independence, and the title, even 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


8e. 

if he derived no profit from his labours, and even 
suffered many privations, he conceived a profound 
contempt for this ambition, at any’rate less igno* 
ble than his own, and would have ridiculed it 
openly if he had not imagined that he could still 
use him against the Zuccati. 

Ah ! my young master,” said he to him, “you 
wish to order and not to serve. That’s simple 
enough, and I can easily understand it in a man of 
talent like you. Well, that’s right : you must be- 
come a master, but not in a little miserable pro- 
vincial town, where you may sweat night and day 
for twenty years without any one’s hearing of you. 
You must pass master at Venice ; nay, at this very 
St. Mark, and supplant and replace the Zuccati.” 

“ That is easier said than done,” said Bozza ; 
“ the Zuccati are all-powerful. 

“Perhaps not so much so as you think,” replied 
Vincent. “Will you promise to trust me, and aid 
me in all my designs T I will give you my word 
that before six months are over, the Zuccati shall 
be driven from Venice; and we two., you and I, 
will be absolute masters in the cathedral.” 

Vincent spoke with so much assurance, and he 
was known for a man so persevering, so skilful, and 
so fortunate in his enterprizes; he had escaped so 
many perils, and repaired so many disasters, where 
every body else w’ould have been ruined, that 
Bozza felt an emotion of pleasure pass over him, 
and the perspiration stood on his forehead, as 
though the sun instead of setting were rising from 
the sea, and darting its fiercest rays upon him. 


S6 THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 

Bianchini seeing that he was conquered took his 
arm, and drawing him away, said : “ Come, I will 
show you with your own eyes, an infallible means 
of ruining our enemies ; but you must swear not 
to be overtaken by any emotion of weak sensibility, 
and not to ruin my projects. Your testimony is 
absolutely necessary to me. Are you certain not 
to draw back from any of the consequences of the 
truth, however painful they may be to your former 
master 

“Where will these consequences stop?” said 
Bozza, astonished. 

“ Short of life only,” said Bianchini ; “ they 
will involve banishment, dishonour, and misery.” 

I will not lend myself to it,” said Bozza, mov- 
ing away from the tempter. “ The Zuccati are 
honest people after all, and 1 cannot carry anger 
to hatred. Leave me, Messer Vincent, you are a 
bad man ?” 

“ It appears so to you,” replied Vincent, with- 
out being moved by an accusation at which he had 
long ceased to blush. “This startles you, be- 
cause you believe in the honour of the Zuccati. 
That looks well, and shows great naivette on your 
part ; but if one could prove to you, and that by 
your own eyesight, that they are rnen without ho- 
nour, who cheat the republic, wasting its revenues, 
stealing their salary, and adulterating their mate- 
rials; if 1 made you see this, what would you 
say 1 And, if after having made you ^ee it, I sum- 
moned you to give evidence of it, what would you 
do ?” 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


87 


“ If my own eyes saw it, I would say that the 
Zuccati were the greatest hypocrites and liars I 
had ever known; and if in that case I was sum- 
moned to give testimony, 1 would do it, for they 
would have infamously duped me ; and also, be- 
cause I already hate those who set themselves over 
others too much not to abhor those who do it at the 
expense of truth. But they, liars and cheaters ! 
I cannot believe it, though I would even wish it, 
that I might have the right to say to their face, 
, ‘ You have no right to despise me!’ ” 

“ Follow me,” said Bianchini, with a malignant 
smile; the night is dark; and besides, we may 
enter the cathedral at all times without exciting 
suspicion. Follow me, and if your courage does 
not fail, in six month’s time you will ornament the 
highest point of the cupola with a great yellow 
devil, who will laugh more than all the others, and 
will be worth a hundred golden ducats to you.” 

Speaking thus, he glided under the sweet scent- 
ed alleys, and Bozza followed, treading on the 
borders of thyme and fennel, and trembling as 
though about to commit a great crime. 


4k- 


88 


CEUPTER X.' 

The next day saw Bozza in the school of the 
Bianchini, working with ardour at the chapel of 
St. Isidore. Francesco, to whom his brother had 
related exactly the occurrence of the evening be- 
fore, was so bitterly wounded by this conduct that 
he entreated Valerio not to make any new attempt 
to discover its motives. He suffered in silence, 
and resenting an injury offered to his beloved bro- 
ther, far more than one offered to himself, and not 
being able to conceive that any one could resist 
the f^rankness and kindness of an explanation given 
by Valerio, he pretended not even to see Bozza, 
and from this time passed him by, as though he 
had never known him. Valerio, who knew how 
much his brother had it at heart to finish his cu- 
pola, and who saw the anxiety caused by Bozza’s 
desertion, resolved to work himself to death rather 
than not surmount this difficulty. Francesco’s 
health w'as delicate, and his proud and sensitive 
soul suffered much from the fear of failing in his 
engagements. He was now thinking not merely 
of his glory as an artist, a glory upon which he 
reproached himself with having dwelt too much ; 
he was behindhand even in the manual part of the 
work, and he was not ignorant of the intrigues aU 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


89 


ready entered into by the Bianchini to blacken his 
reputation. When he had first accepted this enor* 
mous undertaking, his father, thinking it too labo- 
rious to be finished in the three years to which its 
accomplishment was limited, endeavoured to dis- 
suade him. Titian judging that the gay life of 
Valerio, and the feeble health of Francesco ren- 
dered its execution impossible, had often advised 
them to reconcile themselves with the Bianchini, 
and to demand a new engagement from the Procu- 
rators. But the Bianchini, who at first had form- 
ed a part of the school of the Zuccati, had but lit- 
tle talent and an insupportable pride. Nothing 
in the world would have induced Francesco to 
confide to them an enterprise, undertaken and 
conducted with so much care and love. 

To understand why this artist considered it so 
importaht not to be a single day too late, we must 
go back a little, and state that the Cathedral of St. 
Mark had for some years been experimented upon 
by unskilful and dishonest workmen. Considera- 
ble sums expended had only served to support a 
troop of debauched artisans, whose work had been 
obliged to be redone. Father Alberto and Rizzo, 
the chief master Mosaists, had shown the Procu- 
rators the necessity of regulating the work and the 
expences. After many trials, Francesco Zuccalo 
had been appointed chief of the Cathedral work- 
shops, and Vincent Bianchini, although he had 
been banished fourteen years for coining and for 
having committed several assassinations, especi- 
ally one upon his barber, had, thanks tohisindus- 


©0 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


try and to that of his brothers, been protected by 
the Procurator Melchior, who had placed him un- 
der the orders of the Zuccati. But any kind of 
harmony between these two families was impos- 
sible. Francesco had demanded permission to 
choose other pupils, and he had obtained it. To 
put an end to the quarrels emanating- therefrom, 
and to appease the Procurator who had interested 
himself for the Bianchini, the Commissioners had 
decided to take upon trust their capability to work 
upon their own account. A less favourable posi- 
tion, and a longer task had been confided to them 
than to the Zuccati; they themselves had insisted 
upon these conditions, and demanded this proof of 
their talents. Since then, they had unceasingly 
boasted of themselves to the Commissioners, who, 
to say the least, were any thing but enlightened 
upon the matter, and depreciated the school of 
Francesco, whose modesty and candour furnished 
them with weapons. The Commissioners made 
it a point of honour to expend less upon these well 
conducted works than had been done upon the for- 
mer, and wished upon the inauguration of the re- 
decorated church, to merit praise and recompense 
from the Senate. f 

Francesco saw this fatal day approach ; in vain 
he wore himself out with labour, hope began to 
abandon him. He saw Valerio, insensible to anx- 
iety, still persist in his intention of celebrating on 
that very day the institution of a “Company of 
Pleasure,” The departure of Bozza at such a 
critical moment filled him with consternation. 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


91 


Even, thought he, ‘ if Valerio were to give him- 
self entirely up to his labour, that would not do 
much. Let him amuse himself then, since he is 
happy enough to be insensible to the shame of a 
failure.’ 

But Valerio’s views were very different. He 
knew too well the, chivalric susceptibility of his 
brother, not to feel that he would be inconsolable 
under such a mortification. He assembled his fa- 
vourite pupils, Ceccato, Marini, and two others; 
explained to them the state of Francesco’s mind, 
and the position of their school in public opinion. 
He entreated them to follow his example, not to 
despair, to renounce neither business nor pleasure, 
- but to stand to their task, even if they were to 
perish the very day after St. Mark. All swore 
enthusiastically to second him unceasingly, and 
all kept their word. In order not to alarm Frances- 
co, who was always uneasy about the little care 
Valerio took of his health, they covered up with 
planks each portion as it was finished, and worked 
hard every night. A light mattress was thrown 
upon the scaffolding, and if any one was overcome 
by fatigue, he threw himself down, and tasted a 
few minutes’ repose, interrupted by the joyous 
songs of the others, and the creaking of the boards 
beneath their feet. They bore all their fatigues 
gaily, and declared they had never slept better than 
when rocked by the motion of the scaffolding, and 
lulled by the sound of the beetles^ The inextin- 
guishable gaity of Valerio, his amusing stories, 
his merry song**, and the great pitcher of Cyprus 


92 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


wine which went the round, kept up a wonderful 
ardour. Their zeal was crowned with success. 
The eve of Saint Mark arrived just as the day’s 
work was done, and Francesco, in order to avoid 
the appearance even of a mute reproach to his bro- 
ther, was atfecling a resignation foreign to his feel- 
ings. Valerio gave the signals The pupils car- 
ried away the planks, and the master saw the fes- 
toon, and the beautiful cherubim which supported 
it, finished as if by magic. 

“ Oh, my dear Valerio,” cried Francesco, trans- 
ported with joy and gratitude, “ was not I welh 
inspired to give wings to your portrait? Are you 
not my guardian spirit, my liberating angel ?” 

“ 1 had it at heart to show you,” said Valerio, 
returning his embrace, “ that 1 could manage plea- 
sure and business both at once. If you are pleas- 
with me, I am repaid, but you must also embrace 
these brave companions who have so well second- 
ed me, and who by their efforts have rendered 
themselves all worthy of the rnastership ; it now 
remains for you to choose, I do not say the most 
skilful, for they are all alike, but the first in point 
of seniority.” 

“ Dear and good friends,” said Francesco, after 
cordially embracing them, “ some time since you 
made the generous sacrifice of your rights and 
your desires in favour of a young man devoured 
by ambition, whose talents and sufferings seemed 
to you worthy of interest and compassion. You 
intended to prove to him that he accused you 
wrongfully of being his rivals and his enemies. 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


93 


More attached to my instructions than to the vain 
glory of which he was so ambitious, you were 
upon the point of giving him a great example of 
virtue and generosity, by yielding your claims to 
the mastership voluntarily and contrary to his ex- 
pectations, The ungrateful one has not waited 
for this happy day, when he would have been 
forced to admire and love you. He has, coward- 
like, deserted masters whom he could not com- 
prehend, and companions whom he could not ap- 
preciate. Forget him; he who loses you is suffi- 
ciently punished ; where will he find friendship 
more sincere, or services more disinterested 1 Now 
a right of mastership is at your disposal, as it is 
in my gift, and I have no other will than yours. 
God preserve me from having to make a choice 
between pupils whom I esteem and love so ten- 
derly. Choose therefore among yourselves. He 
amongst you, who has the most votes, will have 
mine.” 

“ 1'he choice will not take us long,” said Ma- 
rini; “ we foresaw, dear master, that you would do 
as in preceding years, and we have already made 
our election. I have obtained the majority of the 
suffrages of the school. Ceccato has given me 
his vote, and I am elected. But this choice is the 
effect of injustice or error. Ceccato works better 
than I; he has a wife and two children ; he needs 
and has a right to the mastership ; as for me, I am 
in no haste, I have no family, I am happy under 
your directions ; I have yet much to !earn ; I yield 


94 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS, 


all my votes to Ceccato, I give him my own, and 
beg you master to add yours.” 

“ Embrace me, my brother,” cried Francesco, 
pressing Marini in his arms. “This noble acr 
tion heals the wound which Bartolomeo’s ingra- 
titude had made in my heart. Yes, there still are 
among artists great souls, and noble motives. 
Blush not, Ceccato, to accept this generous sacri- 
fice ; in Marini’s place, we all know you would 
have acted as lie has done. Be as proud as 
though you were the hero of the evening. He 
who inspires such a friendship, is the equal of him 
who feels it.” 

Ceccato, bathed in tears, threw himself into 
Marini’s arms, and Francesco undertook to go di- 
rectly to the Procurator’s, in order that they might 
ratify the mastership annually given to one of his 
pupils, in conformity to his agreement with the 
magistrates. “ We will wait for you at table,” 
said Valerio, “ for after so much fatigue we have 
need of repose. Hasten to join us brother, for I 
am obliged to pass half the night in preparing at 
San Filippo for the joyous affairs of to-morrow, 
and I cannot quit the supper-table without touch- 
ing glasses with you.” 


95 


CHAPTER XL 

As Francesco mounted the grand staircase in 
the Procurator’s palace, he met Bozza descending, 
pale and absorbed in thought. On finding himself 
face to face with his late master, Bozza trembled 
and^ was evidently uneasy. When Francesco 
looked at him with the severity which was natural 
m such a meeting, his countenance changed sud- 
denly, and his pale lips moved as if he were vain- 
ly trying to speak. He made a step as though to 
approach his master, and a movement as throw to 
salute him. Devoured by remorse, Bozza would 
have given his life at this instant, to throw him- 
self at Francesco’s feet and confess everything; 
but his cold manner, and the withering look which 
he threw upon him, and the evident care he took 
to avoid his salute, by turning his head, as soon 
as he saw Bozza carry his hand towards his cap, 
prevented his having the strength of an opportune 
repentance. He stopped, in doubt, hoping that 
Francesco might turn round and give a more en- 
couraging glance ; but, when he saw he was de- 
cidedly condemned and abandoned, “ Be it so !” 
said he, clenching his fist with rage and despair; 
and with hurried steps he went away, and shut 
himself up with his mistress, who could win nei- 
ther word nor look from him during the whole eve- 
ning. 


96 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


Francesco went first to the Procurator-Cashier, 
who was the head of the commission, and was 
much surprised at finding there Vincent Bianchini 
seated in a familiar attitude, and discoursing in a 
loud voice. He however stopped as soon as he 
saw Francesco, and went into the next room, 
which was also one of the interior apartments of 
the same suit. The Procurator Melchoir was frown- 
ing and assuming an austerity of manner to which 
his short and coarse featured face, his protuberant 
stomach and nasal intonations gave a character 
more comic than imposing. But Francesco was 
not a man to be imposed upon by this learned as- 
sumption ; he saluted him, and said that he was 
happy to be able to announce to him the conclu- 
sion of the cupola, and that in consequence — but 
the Procurator left him no time to finish his sen- 
tence. 

“ Indeed ! we are there,’* said he, looking at 
him fixedly, with the evident intention of intimi- 
dating him; “ that is wonderful, Messer Zuccato : 
that is well. Perhaps you will have the goodness 
to tell me how it has been so quickly brought 
about ?” 

“ So quickly, Monsignor 1 It seems to me very 
slowly, for this is the eve of the day appointed, 
and even this morning 1 feared it would not be 
finished in time.” 

“ And your fear was reasonable, for yesterday 
there was still a quarter of your festoon to do, 
which would have needed a month of ordinary la-» 
boar.” 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 9t 

*■ 

“ That is true,” said Francesco, “ 1 see that 
your Signiory is conversant with the least details.” 

“ A man like myself, Messer,” said the Pro- 
curator. emphatically, “ knows the duty of his of- 
fice, and does not allow himself to be imposed 
upon by a man like you.” 

“ A man like yourself, Signor,” said Francesco, 
surprised at this petulance, “ ought to know that 
a man like myself is incapable of imposing upon 
any one.” 

“ Lower your tone, Messer, lower your tone,” 
cried the Procurator,^** or by the ducal cap, I will 
make you silent long enough.” 

The Procurator Melchoir having the honour of 
counting among his great uncles, a doge of Ven- 
ice, was in the habit of thinking that he was a lit- 
tle bitof the doge himself, and of swearing always 
by the ducal head-gear, which, in the shape of a 
Phrygian cap, or horn of plenty, was the august 
ensign of the ducal dignity. 

“ I see your Signiory is not disposed to listen 
to me,” said Francesco, in a gentle, though slight- 
ly contemptous lone, “ I will retire for fear of dis- 
pleasing you more, and wait a more favourable 
moment to — ” 

“ To demand the wages of your idleness and 
bad faith 1” cried the Procurator. “The salary 
of those who rob the Republic is under the Leads, 
Messer, and take care that you are not rewarded 
according to your merits.” 

“I am quite ignorant of any caus^ for such a 
menace,” replied Francesco, “ and 1 think your 
9 


98 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


Signiory has too much wisdom and experience to 
wish to profit by the impossibility of my repelling 
any injustice from such a quarter. The respect I 
owe to your age and dignity seals my lips, but I 
shall not be equally patient with the slanderers 
who have injured me in your estimation.” 

“ By the ducal cap, this is no place to play the 
bully in, Messer. Think rather of justifying 
yourself than of accusing others.” 

“ I will justify myself before your Signiory, and 
to your entire satisfaction, when you will deign to 
tell me of what I am accused.” 

“ You are accused Messer, of having unworthily 
tricked the Procurators, by calling yourself a mo- 
saist. You area painter, Messer, and nothing 
else. Well, by ray great uncle’s cap, that is a 
fine talent! I congratulate you. But you were 
not engaged to make frescoes, and we shall see 
what yours are worth.” 

On my honour I swear, that I am not happy 
enough to understand your Signiory.” 

“ Mordieu, you will be soon made to understand 
me, and until then, do not hope to receive your 
salary. Ah ! ah ! Messer painter, you had much 
reason to say, Messer Melchoir understands no- 
thing of what we are about. He is a good soul, 
who is better employed drinking, than directing 
the fine arts of the Republic. Very well, very 
w^ll, Messer, you see the pleasantries of your bro- 
ther and companions on the worshipful body of 
Magistrates are known. But those laugh best 
who laugh last ! We shall see what figure you 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


99 


will make, when we examine this fine composi- 
tion ourselves ; and you will soon see that our 
knowledge is at least sufficient to distinguish ena- 
mel from paint, and pasteboard from stone.” 

Francesco could not repress a smile of con- 
tempt. 

“ If I comprehend rightly the accusation brought 
against me,” said he, “ I am guilty of having 
substituted a portion of painted pasteboard for en- 
amel. It is true, I have done something of the 
sort as to the Latin inscription which your Sig- 
niory had ordered to be placed over the principal 
exterior door. I thought perhaps your Signiory 
had not taken the trouble of correcting this in- 
scription too flattering to us yourself, and had con- 
fided it to some one, who has done it hastily. I 
therefore allowed myself to correct the word saxi~ 
bus. But faithful to the obedience I owe to the 
respectable Procurators, I have preserved, in the 
stone work beneath, the word just as it came to 
me from their hands, and only permitted my bro- 
ther to correct it on a piece of pasteboard fastened 
over the stone. If your Signiory thinks I have 
done wrong, it is easy to take away the pasteboard, 
and the text will appear underneath, copied faith- 
fully, as you may verify by your own eyes.” 

“ Better and better, Messer,” cried the Procu- 
rator, beside himself with anger. “You are ex- 
posing yourself truly : and this is a proof against 
you, of which 1 shall take notice. Ho, there, let 
my secretary take a note of this avowal. By the 
ducal cap, Messer, we will lower your insolent 


100 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


crest. What ! you pretend to correct the Procu- 
rators ! They understand Latin rather better than 
you! Just look here! what a prodigy of learn- 
ing. Who could have expected such a variety of 
talents. I had better apply for the Latin profes- 
sorship for you at the university of Padua, for to 
be sure you are too great a genius to be confined to 
mosaic work.” 

“ If your Signiory is so much attached to your 
barbarism,” replied Francesco, impatiently, “ I 
can remove the piece of pasteboard immediately. 
The whole Republic will know to-morrow that 
the Procurators do not pride themselves upon their 
good latinity; but after all, what does that matter 
to me I” 

Speaking thus, he went towards the door, whilst 
the Procurator kept shouting to him to get out of 
his presence, and order he did not wait to have 
repeated, for he felt he was losing all self com- 
mand. 

Hardly had he left the room, when Vincent Bi- 
anchini, who being in the next room, had overheard 
all, entered hastily. 

“ Monsignor!” said he, “what are you doing? 
you warn him that his fraud is discovered, and 
yet you let him depart!” 

“ What would you have me do ?” replied the 
Procurator. “ I have refused his salary, and given 
him a severe mortification. That is punishment 
enough for to-day. After to-morrow, we will com- 
mence proceedings against him.” 

“ And during these two nights,” said Bianchini, 
emphatically, he will get into the cathefiral and 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


101 


replace all the pieces of pasteboard by pieces of 
enamel, so correctly, that I shall seem to have 
made a false deposition, and all my devotion to 
the Republic will turn against myself I” 

“ A.nd how would you have me prevent his evil 
intentions,” said the Procurator, alarmed ! “ I can 
close the cathedral.” 

“ You cannot do that, on account of St. Mark’s 
day — the cathedral will be crowded with people, 
and who knows by what means he can get into 
the most securely closed building. And then, he 
will join his companions, come to an understand- 
ing with them, get up excuses. .... All is over, 
and I am lost, if you do not act with vigour im- 
mediately.” 

“You are right Bianchini, we must act directly, 
but howl” 

“Say but a word, send two officers after him; he 
is not yet at the bottom of the staircase, throw him 
into prison.” 

“ By the ducal cap ! that idea never entered ray 
head. . . . but Vincent, that is indeed severe, to use 
such an act of authority. . . .” 

“ But Monsignor, if you let him escape, he 
will ridicule you all his life, and his brother the 
wit, who is such a favourite with all those young 
patricians, who are so jealous of your wisdom and 
power, will load you with caricatures.” 

“You speak well, dear Vincent,” cried the 
Procurator, ringing his bell violently. “ The du- 
cal dignity must be respected.... You know I 
am of a ducal family myself!” 

9 * 


102 ^THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 

“ And you will be Doge some day, I hope.” 
said Bianchini. “All Venice expects to see the 
ducal cap upon your head ” 

The officers were despatched. Five minutes 
afterwards, the melancholy Francesco, without 
knowing by what authority, or in punishment of 
what fault, was conducted with bandaged eyes 
across a labyrinth of galleries, courts, and stair- 
cases, towards the dungeon destined for him. He 
stopped a moment on his mysterious route, and 
from the noise of waters underneath, he knew he 
was crossing the Bridge of Sighs. « His heart sank 
within him, and the name of Valerio faltered on 
his lips, as ari eternal farewell. 


103 


CHAPTER XII. 

Valerio waited for his brother at the tavern, 
until, hurried away by the young men who came 
to seek him, he was obliged to relinquish all hope 
of touching glasses with him, and the new ‘ master’ 
Ceccato. 

Full of cares and commissions for the fete of the 
next day, he passed half the night in running from 
his workshop to the square of St. Mark, where 
the jjreparations were being made for the game of 
running at the ring — and thence to the different 
tradesmen and artificers who were employed on 
this occasion. In these short journeys, he was 
accompanied by his gallant apprentices and many 
other young men of different trades, who were all 
devoted to him, and whom he employed to carry 
messages from one part to another. Whenever 
the merry band resumed their progress, it was to 
the sound of song and laughter, joyous preludes of 
the pleasures of the morrow. 

Valerio did not return home before three o’clock 
in the morning. He was surprised not to find his 
brother, but yet he did not feel much disquieted. 
Francesco had an attachment, which he rather neg- 
lected, whilst art, his dominant passion, occupied 
all his time, but for which he often absented him 


104 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


self when his undertakings allowed him a little 
respite. Valerio was not of a character to fancy 
evil, the mere apprehension of which weakens the 
courage of many men. He went to sleep, feel- 
ing certain of meeting his brother at San Filippo 
the next morning, or at the first place of meeting 
for the joyous members of the Lizard. 

It is generally known that in the days of its 
splendour the republic of Venice, besides the nu- 
merous organized bodies which maintained its 
laws, recognized also a crowd of private compa- 
nies approved of by the senate ; devout associa- 
tions encouraged by the clergy, and joyous clubs 
tolerated and indulged in secret by a government 
always anxious to maintain the activity of the 
working classes, as well as a taste for luxury. 
The devout or religious associations were often 
composed of a single corporation, when that was 
rich enough to bear the expense, for instance that 
of the merchants, the tailors, the bombardiers, etc. 
Others were composed of the artisans or shopkeep- 
ers of a single parish, and assumed its name, as, 
St. Jean Eleemosynary, The Madona of the garden, 
St. George of the sea-weed, St. Francis of the vine, 
etc. — Each brotherhood had a building, which 
they called their school, and which they decorated 
at their common expense with the works of the 
greatest painters, sculptors, and architects. These 
schools were generally composed of a lower room 
called the Albergo, where the brethren usually as- 
sembled, of an ornamented staircase, in itself a sort 
of museum, and of a vast hall or saloon, where 
mass was said and conferences held 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


105 


Many of these schools still remain in Venice, 
either preserved by the government as monuments 
of art, or become the property of individuals. That 
of St. Mark is at present the museum of painting 
in the town ; that of St. Roche contains several 
chef -d' oeuvres of Tintoretto and other illustrious 
masters. Mosaic pavements, ceilings beautifully 

f ilded or ornamented with frescoes by Veronese or 
’ordenone, wainscots beautifully sculptured in 
wood or bronze, light yet minute bas-reliefs where 
the whole history of Christ or of some favourite 
saint is executed in white marble with an incon- 
ceivable detail and finish ; such are the vestiges 
of the power and wealth to which aristocratic re- 
publics may attain, but under the excess ,of which 
they are infallibly doomed to perish. 

Besides the fete day of the saint, honoured by 
each corporation or brotherhood, called segra^ and 
on which they displayed all their splendour, they 
had the right of appearing at all the banquets and 
solemnities of the republic, adorned with the in- 
signia of their different associations. 

At the procession of St. Mark, they took their 
parochial rank; that is to say, they followed the 
clergy of their church, carrying their shrines, 
crosses, and banners, and placing themselves in 
chapels reserved for them during the offices of re- 
ligion. The merely joyous brotherhoods had not 
the same privileges, but they were permitted to 
assemble in the great square, to erect their tents 
and establish their jousts and banquets. Each 
company chose its title and emblem according to 


106 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


its fancy, and recruited where it chose; some were 
composed entirely of patricians, others were indis- 
criminately noble and plebeian, favoured by the 
apparent mixture of rank, which is still evident in 
Venice. The old paintings have preserved many 
of the elegant yet bizarre costumes of the compagni 
de la calza who wore one white and one red stock- 
ing, and the rest of their dress variegated with the 
most brilliant colours. The company of St. Mark 
wore a golden apron pn the breast, that of St. 
Theodoseus a silver crocodile on the arm, etc. 

Valerio Zuccato, celebrated for his exquisite 
taste and skill in inventing and executing such 
devices, had himself directed everything connected 
with the exterior decorations, and it might truly be 
said, that in this respect the company of the Lizard 
excelled every other. He had chosen this climb- 
ing animal as his emblem, because all the trades 
who had yielded their choicest members to him, 
architects, sculptors, glass blowers, painters on 
glass, mosaists, and fresco painters, were by the 
very nature of their labours, in the habit of work- 
ing and existing, so to speak, climbing or suspend- 
ed to the panels of walls and dones. 

On the day of St. Mark, 1570, according to 
Sttinga, and 1574, according to other authors, the 
immense procession took its way through St. 
Mark’s square under the arcades of tents erected 
for this occasion outside the stone galleries of the 
Procurators’ palace, which were too low to yield a 
passage to the enormous golden crosses, the gigan- 
tic chandeliers, the shrines of lapis lazuli sur- 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


107 

mounted by beautifully sculptured silver lilies, 
the reliquaries crowned in a pyramidal form by 
precious stones; in a word, all that ruinous para- 
phernalia of which priests are so zealous, and the 
citizens of the corporations so vain. As soon as 
the religious sons were engulphed by the yawning 
doors of the cathedral, and whilst the poor and the 
children collected the drops of perfumed wax 
which fell upon \he pavement from the thousands 
of wax tapers, or greedily sought for any gem or 
pearl dropped from the saored jewels, there was 
seen to arise, as if by magic, in the middle of the 
square, a large circus, surrounded by wooden gal- 
leries, beautifully decorated with variegated fes- 
toons and silken draperies, under which the ladies 
could seat themselves and view the games, shel- 
tered from the heat of the sun. The pillars which 
supported these galleries were covered with flags, 
on which might be read gallant devices in the naive 
and witty Venetian dialect. In the midst of the 
circus rose a colossal pillar in the shape of a palm 
tree, up the stalk of which were climbing a crowd 
of beautiful Wizards, gold, silver, green, blue, 
striped, infinitely varied ; at the summit of the 
pillar a beautiful white-winged genius bent towards 
this agile troop, holding a crown in each hand. 
At the foot of the tree, upon a platform of cramoisy 
velvet, under a dais of brocade ornamented by the 
most ingenius arabesques, sat the queen of the 
fete^ the giver of the prize, the young Marietta 
Robusti, the daughter of Tintorettd, a beautiful girl 
about twelve years ol age, whom Valerio delight- 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


108 

ed to call the lady of his heart, and towards whom 
he displayed the most tender care and gallant atten- 
tions. When the seals were all occupied, she 
appeared, clothed like one of Gian Bellini’s Angels, 
in a white tunic, a light blue drapery, and an ele- 
gant wreath of vine leaves on her beautiful fair 
hair, which fell in thick golden curls upon her 
alabaster neck. She was conducted by Messer 
Orazio Vecelli, Titian’s son, who vv»as dressed in 
the Eastern fashion, as he had just arrived from 
Byzantium with his father.. He seated himself 
near her, as did ?ilso a numerous group of young 
people distinguished either by their talents or 
birth, for whom places of honour had been reserved 
upon the seats of the dais. The galleries were 
filled with magnificently dressed ladies attended 
by their cavaliers. In a vast place reserved for 
them, many dignified persons did not disdain to 
seat themselves, the Doge set the example ; he 
accompanied the young duke of Anjou, afterwards 
• Henry III. of France, who was then passing 
through Venice. Luigi Mocenigo (the doge) had 
it at heart to do, as it may be said, the honours of 
the city, and to display to his eyes, accustomed to 
the more vigorous enjoyments, and more savage 
feasts of the Sarmatians, the dazzling luxury, and 
the delightful gaiety of the brilliant youth of 
Venice. 

When all were ready a purple curtain was raised, 
and the gallant companions of the Lizard issuing 
from a tent which had been closed until then, 
appeared in a square phalanx, having at their head, 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


109 


musicians clothed fn the grotesque ^ fashion of 
ancient times, arfd in the midst theirchief, Valerio. 
They advanced in good order in front of the Doge 
and senators. The ranks opened, and Valerio 
taking the banner of red satin, upon which the 
silver Lizard shone, separated himself from the 
troop, and saluted with bended knee the chief of 
the Republic. A murmur of admiration greeted 
the handsome cavalier, whose strange, yet magni- 
ficent costume displayed his elegant and graceful 
figure. He was clothed in a close-fitting dress of 
green velvet with large slashed sleeves, open at 
the bosom to show a corselet of Smyrna stuff, em- 
broidered with silken flowers, most admirably 
coloured ; on his left thigh he bore the escutcheon 
of the company, the Lizard embroidered in pearls 
upon aground ofcramoisy velvet; his buckler 
was a chef-d^ceuvre of arabesque, and his poignard, 
enriched with precious stones, was a gift to him, 
brought by Titian from the east; a superb plume 
of white feathers fastened to his cap^by a diamond 
agreffe fell to his waist, and waved with every 
movement like the majestic crest, which the Chinese 
pheasant raises or depresses with so much grace 
at every step. 

For one moment joy at his success, and natural 
youthful pride beamed upon the young man’s ani- 
mated countenance, and his sparkling glance wan- 
dered over all the seats, and met all eyes fixed on 
him. Soon, however, this fugitive joy gave place 
to deep inquietude ; his eyes wandered searching- 
ly through the crowd, yet found not the one he 
10 


110 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


sought. Valerio smothered a sigh and returned 
to his company, where he remained absorbed in 
thought, insensible to the gaiety around him, deaf 
to the noise of the fete, and with a cloud upon his 
brow. , Francesco, notwithstanding his promise to 
present the banner himself t,o the Doge, had not 
• yet made his appearance. 




c 

I 


Ill 


CHAPTER XIII. 

The brilliant company of the Lizard made the 
tour of the square three times, amidst the applause 
of the spectators, who were surprised, and not 
without reason, at the fine figures and high bear- 
ing apparent in these young champions. In 
accordance with the regulations of the company, it 
was requisite, in order to be admitted, that the 
candidate should be of a certain height, have no 
deformity, not be above forty years of age, and 
belong to a respectable family, so as not to carry 
branded on his brow any of those degradingr here- 
ditary signs, which perpetuate the outward indica- 
tions of vice from generation to generation, under 
the form of physical ugliness Every applicant 
was obliged to prove his good health, his truth 
and loyalty, by drinking freely on the day of trial. 
Valerio’s idea was, that a good workman ought to 
be able to bear wine without being inconvenienced 
by it, and that an honourable man would have 
nothing to fear either for his own or his friends’ 
reputation from the involuntary sincerity of drunk- 
enness. It is curious to look at some of the statutes 
of this bacchic constitution, 

“ No one to be admitted, who, after drinking six 
measures of Cyprus wine, shall become idiotic.” 


112 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


“ No one to be admitted who at the seventh 
measure shall babble anything to the detriment of 
a friend or companion.” 

“No one to be admitted who at the eighth mea- 
sure shall betray the secret of his love, and tell the 
name of his mistress.” . i ' 

“No one to be admitted who at the ninth mea- 
sure shall betray the confidence of a friend.” 

“ No one to be admitted who at the tenth mea- 
sure shall not stop and refuse to drink more.” 

It would be difficult now to determine the size 
of this measure of Cyprus wine, but if we judge of 
it by the weight of the armour they w'ore at the 
combat, of which formidable specimens remain in 
our museums, it is likely that it would make the 
most intrepid drinkers of the preseiU day draw back. 

The companions of the Lizard wore, like their 
chief, a green doublet, and the rest of their dress 
white and close-fitting ; but they wore an upper 
robe of yellow silk, a scarlet plume, and a black 
and silver shield. 

When the company had promenaded and shown 
their banners and costumes sufficiently, they re- 
entered the lent, and twenty .couple of horses ap- 
peared in the area. The introduction of these no- 
ble animals at festivals was a luxury much ad- 
mired in Venice, and, as if the eyes of a people 
but little accustomed to see them, could not be satis- 
fied by reality, they were often metamorphosed by 
means of strange costumes into fantastic animals. 
Their skin was painted, false tails of foxes^ bulls, 
or lions, were attached to them, some had birds, 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


113 


crests on their heads, others gilded horns, and others 
masks of fabulous animals. Those displayed by 
the company of the Lizard were handsomer, and 
cortsequently less extravagrantly travestied than 
was usual at that time. Nevertheless, some were 
disguised as unicorns by a long silver horn attach- 
ed to the front of their bridle, others had brilliant 
dragons, or stuffed birds, upon their heads, some 
were painted rose colour, some turquoise blue,apple 
green, or scarlet; others were striped like zebras, 
or spotted like panthers, and others bore imita- 
tions of the gilded scales of the great monsters of 
the deep. Each couple of horses, similarly har- 
nessed, entered the lists, conducted by a Moresco, 
or little black slave, fantastically dressed, walking 
between the two animals, who caracoled spiritedly 
to the sound of trumpets, and the enthusiastic ac- 
clamations of the crowd. 

Valerio alone directed by a purer taste, appeared 
upon a Turkish horse, while as snow, and of re- 
markably beauty, who bore only a simple housing 
of tiger’s skin. Broad silver bands supplied the 
place of reins, and his long mane, carefully mixed 
with silver threads, was plaited, and at the end of 
each tress hung a pomegranate flower beautifully 
carved in silver, his shoes were silvered over, and 
his magnificent tail lashed his noble sides in per- 
fect freedom. Like his master, he bore the escut- 
cheon of the company, the silver lizard on a ground 
of cramoisy, painted with great care on the left 
thigh, and as he had the honour of bearing the 


114 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS 


chief, he was the only horse decorated by the es- 
cutcheon. 

Valerio ordered the horses to be uncoupled, apd 
placing himself at the foot of the platform where 
the little Marietta Robust! sat, he selected ten of 
his joyous companions to sustain the challenges, 
who mounting ten of the horses, placed them- 
selves five on each side of him. The young Moors 
then leading the other ten unmounted Itorses 
round the arena, w’aited until the ten champions 
from among the spectators should present them- 
selves for the contest. They were not long in 
making their appearance, and the games com- 
menced. 

After ruiining at the ring, and when many pri- 
zes had been lost and won, other competitors from 
the spectators and from the companions of the 
Lizard look the places of the vanquished. The 
games were prolonged for some time, the chief 
remaining always on his horse going and com- 
ing, and still more often conversing with his 
beloved Marietta, who vainly entreated him to 
take a part, as it was to him alone, she said, 
that she wished to award the grand prize. Vale- 
rio in these exercises possessed a superiority of 
which he disdained to make a parade ; he liked 
better to protect and animate the pleasure of his 
companions. Besides he was thoughtful and sad; 
he could not conceive, after the devoted affection of 
which he had given proof by finishing the under- 
taking of his brother, that Francesco should carry 
his severity to such a point as not to come to the 
festival even as a spectator. 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


115 


But Valerio aroused himself from his reverie, 
when the three Bianchini descended into the area, 
and desired to measure themselves with the most 
skilful members of the society. Dominic Bian- 
chini, commonly called Rossetto or the Red, was 
a good horseman. He had lived in foreign coun- 
tries for a long time, where the science of horse- 
manship is much more cultivated than in Venice. 
It was not all the companions of the Lizard who 
knew how to bear themselves in their stirrups, 
only those who had been educated in the country, 
or were strangers in the town, knew howto handle 
the bridle and keep their balance on their seat so 
much less peaceful than a Veriitian gondola. 
Three of the most skilful presented themselves to 
do battle with the Bianchini, and were completely 
conquerediin the first round; three others succeeded 
and shared the same fate. The honour of the 
company was in jeopady. Valerio was mortified, 
for, until then, his cavaliers had had the advantage 
over all the young people of the city, and even over 
the young nobles, who had notdisdained to measure 
themselves with them. But his heart was so hea- 
vy that he did not even trouble himself to pick up 
the glove, nor to lower the pride of the Bianchini. 
Vincent seeing his indifference, and attributing it 
to the fear of being overcome, cried to him in his 
coarse voice, 

“ Hola there. Monsignor Prince of the Lizards, 
are you changed into a tortoise, or have you no 
more champions to oppose to us 1” 

Valerio gave a sign, and Ceccato, with Marini, 
presented themselves. 


116 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS 


“ And you, Signor Valerio, or ratlier your Ma- 
jesty of the Lizard,” exclaimed in his turn Domi- 
nic the Red, “ do you disdain to measure yourself 
with an antognist of so low a quality as myself 1” 

“ In good time, if necessary,” replied Valerio. 
“ Let your brothers try first w ith my two friends, 
and if your side is beaten, I will give you your 
revenge.” 

The two Bianchini again carried off the victory, 
and Valerio resolving not to leave them the advan- 
tage, spurred his horse to the gallop. The trum- 
pets gave forth their proudest and most joyous 
sounds, as with lightning speed he made the tour 
of the arena three times, neither raising his arm, 
nor regarding the goal, but suddenly, whilst appa- 
rently thinking of other things, and in a moment 
of abstraction, he carried off the five rings with a dis- 
dainful and nonchalant air. The Bianchini had as 
yet only carried off four ; they were becoming 
fatigued, and as they had gained every round till 
then, this defeat need not have caused them much 
mortification. But Dominic the Red, who had 
taken no part in this last trial, and had been rest- 
ing himself for some time, burnt with a desire to 
humiliate Valerio. He hated him with peculiar 
hatred, because Valerio had prevented his being 
received into the company of the Lizard, on ac- 
count of his revolting ugliness. Vincent, his 
eldest brother, had been rejected because he had 
forfeited his honour and undergone an infamous 
punishment. Gian Antonio had been admitted to 
the trial, but he had scarcely drunk three measures 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


117 


of wine before he lost all command of himself, 
and insulted many respectable people. All three 
therefore found themselves excluded from the club 
for most mortifying rfeasons, and to avenge them- 
selves, they had made Bozza believe that he was 
rejected beforehand, because he was illegitimate, 
and thus had prevented his even inserting himself 
upon the list. 

Dominic thrust himself before Valerio, who 
was returning to his place intending to leave the 
lists open to arlolher. “You promised me my 
revenge, Don Lizard,” said he ; “ are you already 
wilhdrawingfrom the play ?” — Valerio turned, and 
regarding Dominic with an air of contempt, re- 
entered the arena with him without any other reply. 

“ Begin, since you are the winner,” said Domi- 
nic with an ironical air, “ Honour to whom ho- 
nour is due.” 

Valerio carried off four rings, but what did not 
happen to him once in a hundred limes, occurred 
now, he missed the fifth ring, and it fell to the 
ground. He bad been distracted by his father’s 
figure, who had just placed himself in a neighbour- 
ing gallery. The old Zuccati seemed troubled, 
he was seeking Francesco, and the severe looks 
he directed at Valerio, seemed to say as the awful 
voice of other days to Cain, “ W here is thy bro- 
ther 1” 

The Bianchini uttered a cry of joy. They fan- 
cied, themselves already revenged by Dominic, but 
his vainglorious hurry deceived him ; he missed 
the fourth ring, and Valerio remained conqueror. 


118 THE MOSAIC WORKERS 

This victory would not have satisfied Valerio’s 
self-love at any other time, but he wished so ardent- 
ly to close the games, and to go in search of his 
brother, that he only drew* his breath freely when 
he found himself authorized to go and receive the 
prize. 

Already Marietta’s little hands held the embroi- 
dered scarf, when just as he was putting his foot 
to the ground amidst the general applause, Barto- 
lomeo Bozza clothed in black from head to foot, 
with an eagle’s plume, appeared in the arena, as 
suddenly as though he had sprung from the earth ; 
and demanded to sustain the side of the Bianchini. 

“ 1 have had enough, the games are finished,” 
said Valerio impatiently. 

“ And how long,” exclaimed Bozza in his sharp 
and bitter voice, “ Has it been the custom for the 
chief of the course to recoil at the last moment, 
from the fear of losing an unfairly acq||ired 
prize ] In fair play you owe Messer vDominic a 
revenge, for he was evidently disturbed in his last 
attempt. Besides, he is extremely fatigued, and 
you have no right to be so. If you are not as 
cowardly as your emblem the lizard, you ought to 
give me a chance.” 

“ I will give you this chance,” said Valerio, 
much provoked, ** but this evening or to-morrow 
you shall give me one of a more serious nature, to 
answer for the manner in which you presume to 
speak to me. Now then, begin. 1 yield you 
precedence, and give you three points. 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


119 


“ 1 do not want one,” said Bozza — “ A horse 
here directly ! What, that wretched hack!*’ cried 
he, turning towards the Moresco, who brought for- 
ward a fiery horse, “ Have you notone less broken 
backed ?” 

So saying, he sprang with surprising agility up- 
on the courser, without even putting his foot into 
the stirrup, and made him curvet and caracole 
with a courage and audacity which prejudices! 
every one in his favour, then darting forward like 
a thunderbolt: — 

“I never play for less than ten rings,” cried he 
in an arrogant tone. 

“ Ten rings let it be,” cried Valerio, whose pre- 
occupied manner began to shake the confidence of 
his partizans. 

Bozza carried off the ten rings in a single round, 
and then abruptly checking his horse in the midst 
of the gallop in the intrepid and vigorous manner 
of the Arabs, he leaped to the ground, whilst the 
animal reared, threw his lance into the middle of 
the arena, and regarding his adversary with a 
countenance full of irony, placing himself with a 
nonchalant air at the feet of Marietta Robusti. 

Valerio deeply piqued, felt his spirits revive ; 
he had eleven rings to carry off to win the prize. 
This was not beyond his powers, but more than he 
was accustomed to do, for five was the number 
usually attempted, and Bozza must have had ex- 
treme practice to obtain such success. Neverthe- 
less contempt and resentment gave new strength 
to the young man. He set off and carried nine 


120 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


rings well, but at the very moment of touching the 
tenth, he felt that he trembled, and gave his horse 
the spur, in order to have a pretext to make the 
round again. 

“ Well !” said a voice in the neighbouring gal- 
lery. It was the voice of old Zuccato, it seemed 
to say, “you are losing time, Valerio, your bro- 
ther is in danger,” at least Valerio’s imagination 
was deeply struck ; but he brought his horse round 
and achieved the tenth ring. 

Bozza turned pale ; there was but one more ring, 
and he was conquered, but it was the decisive mo- 
ment, and Valerio was visibly moved. Neverthe- 
less pride combatted this secret terror, and he 
would have infallibly conquered, had not Vincent 
Bianchini, seeing his inevitable success, and being 
near fnough to be heard, said to him with a lower- 
ing look, 

“Yes, play on, gain, rejoice thou creeping ani- 
mal, not long will it be before thou crawlest under 
the Leads with thy brother !” 

At the very moment that he pronounced these 
last words, Valerio touched the ring, he became 
pale as death, and the ring fell. Hisses were heard 
on all sides, and the companions and partizans of 
the Bianchini gave voice to their insolent and furi- 
ous joy. 

“ My brother !” exclaimed Valerio, “ my brother 
under the Leads. Where is the coward who said 
it; who has seen my brother, who can tell me 
where he is ?” 

But his cries were lost in the tumult : order was 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


121 


disturbed, Bozza received the prize, and was car- 
ried away in triumph by theschool.of the Bianchi- 
ni, who were now joined by all the dissatisfied 
who had been refused admission into the company 
of the Lizard. 

Many vulgar jests, many significant pantomimes 
were acted by the noisy crowd. The ladies alarmed, 
pressed against the barricades to let this bacchanal 
rout go by. The companions of the Lizard wished 
to draw their swords and pursue them, and the po- 
lice and halberdiers had great diflicnlty in restrain- 
ing them. The rest of the crowd went away, mourn- 
ing for the handsome Valerio, for whom all, but 
especially the women, were deeply interested. 
The little Marietta wept and threw her crow^n in 
vexation under the horses’ feet. 

In the midst of this deafening confusion^V ale- 
rio, unconscious of his defeat, and tortured by 
anxiety for his brother, ran at hazard through the 
city, with a distracted countenance, asking news 
of his brother from all whom he met. 


11 


122 


CHAPTER XIV. 

“What are you dreaming of, master!” said 
Ceccato, joining Valerio in the midst of the crowd, 
and seizing him by the arm. “ How can you al- 
low yourself to be so troubled by a mere cowardly 
assertion ? Do you not see that Bianchini invent- 
ed that trick just to make you miss the ring! He 
deserves to be well punished; but if you abandon 
your companioiis, and sadden the fete by your ab- 
sence, the Bianchini will, indeed, triumph. It is 
easy^to see that they have done all this to revenge 
thernselves for their expulsion. Come, master, 
come and re-conduct the little queen, and make the 
tour of the quays with the music ; the company 
cannot promenade without its chief. At the ves- 
pers we shall all seek Messer Francesco.” 

“ But where can he be!” said Valerio, clasping 
his hands. “ Who knows what they may have 
devised to throw him into prison !” 

“Into prison! impossible, master; for what 
reason! on what pretext! Do they throw a man 
into prison at the first word spoken !” 

“Yet he is not here; some powerful reason 
must detain him. He knows that I cannot enjoy 
the fete without him ; and although he does not 
love fetes^ he owed me this mark of complaisance, 
this recompense for my labours. Our enemies 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


123 


must have drawn him into an ambush ; perhaps 
assassinated him ! Vincent Biapphini is capable 
of any thing.” 

“ Master, your brain is turned ; for the love of 
heaven come amongst ns ! See, our company is 
dispersing, and if we do not take our revenge at 
the regatta this evening, the Bianchini will make 
such a noise, that nothing will be talked of to- 
morrow but the failure of the company of the 
Lizard.” 

Valerio felt a little reassured by the thought that 
perhaps Francesco had gone to see his father, and 
had been detained by him. The oddity and seve- 
rity of old Zuccato authorized this idea to a certain 
point, and the angry glance he had cast, made Va- 
lerio think he had come expressly to blame him. 
He endeavoured to find his father in the crowd, 
although sure of meeting those bitter jests, of 
which old Zuccato, notwithstanding his tenderness 
for his children, was so lavish. However, he 
could not find him ; and surrounded by his discon- 
tented companions, he was forced, rather than see 
them disband themselves entirely, to march at their 
head to the shore of the canal of !Sl. George, known 
at present as the quay of the Esclavons. 

The animating sounds of the music, the proud 
and slightly sarcastic gaiety of the little Marietta, 
whom four companions carried in a sort palanquin 
decorated with flowers, streamers, and arabesques 
designed by Valerio, the admiration of the specta- 
tors on the Lagunes, and all the seamen of the 
port grouped on the shore and on the shipping, the 


124 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


noise and the motion, a little reanimated Valerio. 
He breathed ag£|g at the hope of meeting his bro- 
ther during the service for which the first bells 
were ringing, and which would suspend the di- 
versions, when the sheath of a dagger fell from the 
roof of the ducal palace at his feet. Struck by a 
sudden thought he seized it, and drew from it a 
billet written with a piece of fusanus wood which 
Francesco had luckily in his pocket. 

“ Companions passing in joy to the sound of 
trumpets, make known to Valerio Zuccato, that 
his brother is under the leads, and that he awaits 
his — The billet contained no more. Hearing 
the music approach, and fearing it would pass, 
Francesco, who could see nothing, but recognized 
Valerio’s favourite march played by the hautboys, 
did not wait to finish his thought, but threw his 
note through the slit at the top of the window in 
the wall, called with good reason in technical lan- 
guage, i\\e jour de souffrance. 

Valerio uttered a terrible cry, and Francesco, 
notwithstanding the noise of the instruments and 
of the crowd, heard his thundering voice exclaim: 

“ My brother under the Leads ! Curses on those 
who have sent him there !” 

Valerio stopped with a movement so energetic, 
that an army could* not have carried him forward. 
All the company stopped simultaneously, the fatal 
news flew from rank to rank, and they dispersed 
immediately ; some to follow Valerio, who darted 
like lightning through the arcades of the palace, 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


125 


others to seek the Bianchini, and to force from 
them the secret of their machinations. 

Valerio, transported with rage and with grief, at 
first ran forward without well knowing whither; 
but obeyin^an instinctive feeling he entered the 
court of the Ducal Palace. At this instant the 
Doge was remounting the giant’s staircase with 
the Duke of Anjou, the procurators, and part of 
the senate. Valerio pressed boldly through all 
these noble lords, making way by his own impetu- 
osity, and threw himself at the feet of the Doge, 
whom be even detained by his ermine mantle. 

“ What do you want, my son P’ said Mocenigo, 
turning kindly towards him. “ Why is yonr hand- 
S( me face so full of despair? — have you suffered 
any injustice? — can 1 repair it?” 

“ Highness,” cried Valerio, pressing the skirt 
of the ducal robe to his lips, “Yes, I have suf- 
fered a great injustice, and my soul is weighed 
down by grief. My elder brother, Francesco Zuc- 
cato, the first mosaic worker in all Italy, the bra- 
vest champion, and most loyal citizen of the Re- 
public, has been conducted to the Leads without 
your order, without your permission, and I come to 
demand justice.” 

“ To the Leads ! Francesco Zuccato !” cried the 
Doge. “ Who can have inflicted so severe a pun- 
ishment on so brave a young man, on so great an 
artist ? and if he has committed a fault, which 
merits chastisement, how is it that I am not inform- 
ed of it ? — Who has given the order ? — which of 
you gentlemen will account to me for it 
11 * 


126 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


No one replied, and Valerio continued. 

“Highness,” said he, “the Procurators entrusted 
with the repairs in the cathedral ought to know ; 
Monsignor Melchior the cashier must know.” 

“1 will find out, Valeiro,” replied -the Doge. 
“ Console yourself, justice shall be done. Let us 
now pass on.” 

“ Highness, strike me with your sword if my 
audacity offend you,” said Valerio, without leaving 
hold of the Doge’s mantle, “ but listen to the com- 
plaint of the most faithful of your fellow citizens. 
Francesco Zuccato can have committed no fault. 
He is a man who has never had an evil thought. 
To send him to the Leads is to do him an injus- 
tice for which he can never be consoled, and with 
which the whole city will bo acquainted in an hour, 
if you do not restore his liberty and permit him to 
show himself with his companions, to the public, 
who are already marvelling not to see him at their 
head. Yet more. Highness, listen to me. Fran- 
cesco is frail of body as a reed of the Lagunes. If 
he passes a day more beneath the Leads, it is 
enough, he will never come out, and you will have 
lost the best artist and the best citizen of the Re- 
public ; and other misfortunes will arise, for I 
swear by the blood of Christ . . .” 

“ Silence, my son,” said the Doge gravely ; 
“ utter no senseless menaces. I cannot restore a 
prisoner to liberty without the consent of the Sen- 
ate, and the Senate will not do it without knowing 
for what fault he suffers this chastisement, for some 
heavy suspicion must attach to a man who is con- 
demned to the Leads. I promise you justice; do 


THE MOSAIC WORKEBS. 


127 


not mis-doubt the father of the Republic, but ren- 
der yourself worthy of his protection by wise and 
prudent conduct. All that 1 can now do to soften 
your anxiety and the solitude of your brother, is to 
give you permission to visit him, and to bestow 
your care upon him if his health require it.” 

“Thanks, Highness. Blessings on you for this 
permission”’ said Valeiro, bowing his head and 
dropping the Doge’s mantle, who passed on. The 
Duke of Anjou stopped before Velerio and said to 
him with a smile : “ Young man, take courage, I 
undertake to remind the Doge that he has promis- 
ed you speedy justice, and if your brother resemble 
you, I doubt not that he is a brave cavalier, and 
a loyal subject. Know that notwithstanding your 
defeat, I regard you as the hero of the day, and that 
your appearance and great talents interest me so 
strongly in your favor that I wish to attach you to 
the Court of France when the noble Republic of 
Venice shall no longer have need of youi servi- 
ces.” 

Speaking this, he took off his rich chain of 
gold, and passed it round Valerio’s neck, begging 
him to keep it, in memory of the giver. 


128 


CHAPTER XV. 

Two halberdiers conducted Valerio to his bro- 
ther’s prison. 

“You also,” cried Francesco, “have the traitors 
also conquered you, poor youth 1 Of what use is 
it to be without ambition and vanity 1 Sacred mo- 
desty ! have they not even respected thee !” 

“ I am not a prisoner by the will of the scoun- 
drels,” said Valerio, embracing his brother, “ but 
by my own. I quit you no more. 1 come to share 
your straw couch, and your black bread. But tell 
me who sent you here, and on what pretext I” 

“ I know not,” replied Francesco, “ but I am 
not astonished ; are we not in Venice 1” 

Valerio tried to console his brother, and to per- 
suade him that he must have been arrested from 
some misconception, and that he would be imme- 
diately set at liberty. But Francesco replied with 
profound melancholy ; — 

“ It is too late, they have caused me all the 
harm they could, they have inflicted an insult 
nothing can efface. What imports it now, whe- 
ther I pass a day or a year in this frightful prison? 
Do you believe that it is the heat, do you think it 
is the sufferings of the body I have felt during this 
interminable day? No! I have suffered all the 


•THE MOSAIC. WORKERS. 129 

tortures of tlie soul. I, ranked among rogues and 
imposters ! I, who after so many watchful nights, 
after such conscientious labors, so much zeal and 
devotion to my country’s glory, ought to be carried 
in triumph, and crowned by my school, amidstlhe 
acclamations of a grateful people : behold me, in 
a dungeon, as Vincent Bianchini has been for as- 
sassination and coining ! Behold the fruit of my 
labors, behold the recompense of my courage ! Be 
a consciencious artist ; wear out in gnawing cares, 
and enfeebling studies, the remains of a suffering 
and precarious life ; renounce the allurements of 
love, the seductions of pleasure, the voluptuous 
repose of the nights of spring ; and the day when 
you hoped to have deserved a crown, you will be 
loaded with fetters, you will be covered with 
shame ! And this blind and fickle public, who so 
unwillingly salutes truth, has always arms for ca- 
lumny ! Be sure Valerio, that even now, this peo- 
ple, who has seen me from birth grow and strength- 
en in the love of labor, in the hatred of injustice, 
and in respect for the laws, this very people who 
only judge of human mo'ives by their failure or 
success, be sure they condemn me already: now 
that they have known for ten minutes that I am in 
in prison. It is sufficient that 1 am unfortunate for 
them to believe me guilty. Already my name is 
confounded with that of Vincent Bianchini ; we 
have both been arrested, our'heads have both bent 
beneath the Leads. I may, perhaps, be restored 
to liberty, because I am innocent, but was not he 
also restored, he who was guilty 1 Who knows, 


130 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


if like him, I shall not be banished 1 Does not Ve- 
nice banish all whom she suspects, and does not 
she suspect every one who is denounced 

Valerio felt that his brother’s grief was but too 
well founded, and that in endeavouring to reconcile 
him to his situation, he only made him more sen- 
sible of its rigour and its dangers.- Towards eve- 
ning he wished to go out to seek for food and a 
mantle for his brother, but uppn summoning the 
jailor through the wicket, the man told him, that 
he had received an order not to let him leave the 
prison, and even showed him a paper with the seal 
of the Inquisitors of State, ordering the arrest of 
the brothers Zuccati, without the slightest intima- 
tion of its cause. A cry of grief escaped Frances- 
co when he heard this decree. 

“ Behold,” said he, “ the last blow. The ruf- 
fians ! could not they rid themselves of me, with- 
out inflicting the torture of seeing my brother’s 
sufferings ?” 

“ Do not pity me,” said Valerio, “ perhaps they 
would not have allowed me to pass my days and 
nights with you, and now, thanks to them, I shall 
never quit you.” 

Many days and many nights passed away with- 
out the brothers Zuccati receiving any explanation 
as to their position, or any consolation in their 
grief or anxiety. The heat was overpowering, the 
plague raged in Venice, the atmosphere of the 
prison was infected. Francesco, lying upon a heap 
of broken and dusty straw, seemed almost to have 
lost cognizance of his sufferings ; from time to 


THU MOSAIC WORHURB. 


131 


time, he stretched ont his arm to carry to his lips 
a few drops of brackish water from a pewter gob- 
let. Weakened by continued sweats, he dried*"his 
sharpens featores with morsels of linen, which 
Valerio kept for him with extreme care, and wash- 
ed every day, setting aside for that purpose half of 
his own mieerable supply of water. It was al- 
most the only service he could render his unfortu- 
nate brother. He was in want of every thing. He 
had used all his rich habiliments to form, with 
some of the straw, a kind of pillow and screen, 
^and had only a few rags left for his own clothing, 
where some remains of gold and embroidery might 
yet be seen. Valerio had in vain offered his pearls, 
his poinard, and his gold chain to the jailors, to in- 
duce them to procure for Francesco some relaxa- 
tion of the frightfuFseverity of the carcere duro. 
The officers of the inquisition were incorruptible. 

Notwithstanding the impossibility of assisting 
his brother, Valerio constantly bent over him. 
More robust, and too much absorbed by Francesco’s 
Bufferings to feel his own, he was constantly oc- 
cupied in turning him upon his miserable couch, 
fanning him w’ith the large plume of his cap, touch- 
ing his burning hands, and watching his fading 
looks. Francesco no longer complained, he had 
lost all hope. When he rallied for a moment from 
his sufferings, he endeavoured to smile upon bis 
brother, to say something affectionate to him, and 
then sunk again into an alarming stupor. 

One evening Valerio was seated as usual upon 
the heated tiles, with Francesco’s languid head 


1*32 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


upon his knees. The unpitying sun went down 
upon a fiery sea, aad tinged with a sinister light 
the walls, which, being painted red, seemed to ab- 
sorb and preserve all ihe heat of a cortflagration . 
The plague was every where extending iis ravages. 
Ail the sounds so animated, so joyful, of magnifi- 
cent Venice, had given way to the silence of death ; 
only interrupted by the nriournful sound of the bell 
for the dying, or the distant psalm of some pious 
monk, as he passed down the canal, conducting a 
bark full of corpses to the cemetery. A martin 
came and perched upon the narrow slit which 
yielded a rarefied and withering atmosphere to thfe 
cel) of the Zuccati. This black swallow, with its 
blood-red breast, sharp and piercing voice, and 
proud and savage attitude, seemed to Valerio of 
evil augury. It appeared disquieted, and after cal- 
ling in its peculiar mannqr to some companion, flew 
away, uttering a cry which the Venetians know 
well, and which they never hear without conster- 
nation. It is the cry with which these migratory 
birds assemble, when the time for their change of 
hemisphere has arrived. They assemble in nu- 
merous bands, the heavens are darkened by them, 
and the same day sees one and all disappear. 
Their departure is the signal for the appearance of 
a veritable scourge. The Mozelins^ almost imper- 
ceptible insects, whose sharp and continual buz- 
zing is irritating, even to fever, and whose sting is 
insupportable, fill the atmosphere, and no longer 
pursued in the higher regions by the chasing swal- 
low, alight on the houses, infest them, and rob of 


• THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


138 


all slumber those Venetians whom the appliances 
’Of luxury do not preserve from their attacks. 

Under the Leads and at a season when the air, 
charged with pestil-ential exhalations, instilled its 
venom into every pore, the appearance of the Moae- 
Jins which was sooti followed' by that of the Scor- 
pions, was Wk« a death warrant to Francesco. Al- 
though burnt op with violent fever, he had as yet 
tasted at night.a little repose, duiing those hours 
w'hen the refreshing' breeze reached even him, but 
this repose was now snatched from him. During 
the night, these gnats })enetrate into every -dwel- 
ling, especially where the warm breath of man at- 
tracts them. Valerio listened with anxiety. He 
heard a thousand sharp cries, and unquiet and 
hasty chirpings, calling, replying, now far, now 
near. The birds assembled, settled on the roofs 
as though in deliberation, and took wing uttering 
their piercing adieu, like a final malediction ov-er 
the grieving city. Valerio placed himself under 
the window whence nothing but the sky was visi- 
ble. He saw the black specks moving over the 
heavens at an immeasurable height, no more pur- 
suing the extensive regular circles of their chase, 
but all flying in a straight line towards the east. 
The swallows were already on their way. Fran- 
cesco had heard their parting cry. He had read in 
Valerio’s countenance the horror of this discovery. 
When man is overwhelmed by suffering he knows 
not how to look forward to fresh misfortune, al- 
though imminent and inevitable; he has no longer 
the strength to add by imagination future evil to 
12 


134 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


present ill. When the evil happens he is crushed 
as by an unexpectec^ catastrophe. Death itself — 
that fatal, that unavoidable denouement of exist- 
ence, takes nearly all men by surprise, as an injus- 
tice of heaven, as a caprice of destiny. 

“ After to-morrow,” said Francesco to his brother 
in a smothered voice, “ 1 shall sleep no more 
This was pronouncing his own death-warrant. 
Valerio understood him, and let his head drop upon 
his breast, whilst bitter tears, which till then he 
had stoically repressed, flowed in torrents down 
his wasted cheeks. 

• > \ 

‘ IM 

' ^ ^ ’ - 1 - .-I ]. 


. 1 : . ... . . I,. 


'1 . 


■-i f- ■ ■■ -'ll 



135 


CHAPTER XVI. 

The Inquisition was a power so mysterious, so 
despotic, there was so much danger in endeavour- 
ing to penetrate its secrets, and the endeavour was 
so difficult, that three days after St. Mark, no one 
even spoke of the arrest of the Zuccati. The re- 
port of Francesco’s imprisonment had quickly 
spread, and had died away like the wave which 
expires upon the desert and silent strand. The 
smallest rock would repulse, and therefore excite 
it, but an expanse of sand, for years levelled and 
wasted by storms, receives the wave without any 
impression, and there all strength dies away for 
want of exercise; such was Venice. The unquiet 
effervescence, the natural curiosity of her people, 
exhausted itself like the vain foam of the sea on 
the steps of the ducal palace, and the gloomy wa- 
ters which bathe its vaults, bear away at all times 
a trace of blood, of which the unknown source is 
concealed in the profound abysses of these discreet 
caverns. 

The Plague also had filled all hearts with con- 
sternation and discouragement. All labour was 
suspended, all the schools dispersed ; Marini had 
been struck one of the first, and was struggling in 
a slow and painful convalescence. Cecoato had 


136 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


lost one of his children and was attending an al- 
most dying wife. 

The rage of the Bianchinis had been stifled for 
a time by the fear of death. Bozza had disap- 
peared. 

Old Sebastian Zuccato had gone into the coun- 
try the very day of St. Mark, at the end of the 
games, in a fit of ill humour, at what he called the 
extravagance and false glory of his sons. He was 
entirely ignorant of their misfortunes, and was in- 
dignant that they came not as usual to soften his 
anger by their respectful attentions. 

The Plague having a little abated its malignity, 
the old Zuccato feared he might have lost his sons 
during its continuance He went to Venice, in- 
tending to scold his sons, but full of anxiety, and 
even more angrily disposed towards them, because 
he found it impossible not to love them. It must 
not be imagined that the scene in the cathedral had 
reconciled Sebastian to mosaic work. He was 
still exasperated against this species of labour, and 
those who gave themselves up toil. If he had ex- 
perienced against his will that influence which great 
achievements exercise over an artist’s soul, if he 
had pressed his children to his bosom, and shed 
tears of sympathy, he had not yielded any of his 
prejudices as to the pre-eminence of certain branch- 
es of art; even had he so willed, he could not at 
the threshold of the grave, have given up the ob- 
stinate opinions of his whole life. His only con- 
solation was the hope of seeing Francescoono day 
renounce his vile trade, and return to the easeU 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 137 

Intending to renew his exhortations to this effect, 
he went to the Cathedral expecting to find him still 
occupied with some other cupola, but he found it 
hung with black, and mournful sounds echoing 
through the gloomy isles. The tapers, struggling 
in the last faint beams of day, threw a pale red 
light more fearful than utter darkness. The last 
honours were being paid to two senators who had 
died of the plague. 1'heir biers were in the por- 
tico, the service was being hurried through, and 
it was easy to see that the priests fulfilled their 
holy office with fear and trembling. The old Zuc- 
cato trembled from head to foot when he saw these 
two coffins, and was only reassured by hearing the 
names of the deceased magistrates. He left the 
Cathedral, and hurried to Valerio’s workshop, at 
San Filippo. But there he was told that neither 
Valerio nor Francesco had appeared after the St, 
Mark, and he then sought them without success in 
all their accustomed haunts. At last, overcome 
by anxiety, he discovered the unhappy Ceccato, 
and from his gloomy conjectures, he imagined his 
sons must have perished under the Leads, either of 
grief or pestilence. He stood for some moments 
absorbed, immovable, pale as a shroud. At last 
he seemed to decide, and without saying a word to 
Ceccato or his afflicted family, he went straight to 
the Procurator Cashier. He was far from accusing 
him of the unjust arrest of his sons. Naturally 
submissive, he would have thought himself want- 
ing in respect and affection for the laws, did he 
suspect a magistrate of error or prejudice, Dis- 
13 * 


138 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


pleased himself with his children, and quite ready 
to charge them with idleness or insolence, accord- 
ing to the decision of the Procurator, h» wished at 
any price to know what had become of them. He 
therefore humbly greeted the Procurator, the cor- 
pulent Cashier, who doubtless to preserve himself 
from the Plague, was even more wrapped up in 
self than ever. He found him surrounded with 
smelling bottles and aromatics of all kinds, intend- 
ed to purify the air he breathed. However, the 
ceremonious salutation of Sebastian, seemed to ren- 
der him a little more tractable than usual. 

“ Well, well,” said he, making a sign to him to 
keep at a distance, and holding to his nose a large 
handkerchief saturated with essence of juniper, 
“that’s enough, good man. Don’t come too near, 
and keep your breath in. By thfe horn, in this ac- 
cursed time, one knows not to whom one may be 
speaking! Are you sure you are not ill? Now 
make haste, what is it you want ?” 

“ Your highness,” replied the old man, secretly 
a little mortified by this cavalier reception, sees 
before you the syndic of the painters, Messer 
Sebastian Zuccato, your humble servant, father 
of ” 

‘^Ah! that’s true,” replied Melchior, without 
moving, and merely making a movement, as if to 
raise his languid hand to the black silk cap which 
covered his large flat head. “ 1 did not recollect 
you, Messer Zuccato. You are an honest man, 
but you have two violent scoundrels for your 
sons 1” 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


139 


“ Excellence, the term is rather severe, but I do 
not deny that my sons are wild fellows, dissipated, 
and obstinate in their opinions, and devoted to a 
vile and disgraceful trade. I know they are in dis- 
grace both with the other magistrates and yourself. 
I am certain, therefore, they must have committed 
some great fault, since your goodness to them has 
been changed into severity, and 1 do not come to 
justify them, but to entreat that your resentment 
may abate, and that your charity may take into 
consideration the impurity of the air, the intense 
heat of the season, and the feeble health of my el- 
dest son, whom the regimen of the prison must 
have already so seriously affected, that he will re- 
member this punishment and expose himself to it 
no more.” 

“ Your son is, indeed, ill, they tell me,” replied 
the Procurator. “ But who is not in this melan- 
choly time? I myself am really suffering, and 
without the extreme care of my doctor, I should 
have perished I have no doubt; — but one must take 
precautions, many precautions. By the Ducal 
Cap ! I advise you to take precautions.” 

“ Does your Excellency say that ray son Fran- 
cesco is ill ?” said Sebastian alarmed. 

“Ohl don’t trouble yourself about that ; one is 
not more ill in prison than elsewhere. We know 
by exact calculations, that on an average, no more 
prisoners die under the Leads than in the other 
prisons of the republic.” 

“ Under the Leads, your Excellency!” cried the 


140 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


old man, “ did you say under the Leads ) Is it 
possible my sons are under the Leads'?” 

“By the Ducal Cap there they are, and they 
richly deserve it for their roguery and extortion.” 

“In Christ’s name, Monsignor, you only wish 
to frighten me,” said Zuccato in a firm voice, step- 
ping back, “ my children cannot be under the 
Leads.” 

“They are there, I tell you,” replied the Procu- 
rator, “and I can’t take them out till their trial is 
over. As soon as the Plague allows people to oc- 
cupy themselves with their business, it will be 
looked after, but, by the Ducal Cap, I fear their 
fate will be yet worse, for they are surely guilty, 
and there is perpetual banishment for the defraud- 
ers of the public revenue.” 

‘‘ By the devil’s body Messer,” cried the old 
man, approaching the Procurator, “those who say 
so, lie in their throats, and those who have put my 
sons under the Leads, shall repent of it whilst I 
have strength to move a finger !” 

“Keep off I” cried the Procurator, in his turn 
rising with alacrity, and moving his arm chair 
backwards, “ do not bring your breath so near my 
face. If you have the pestilence, keep it, and go 
to the devil with your rascally sons. I tell you 
they shall be hung if you aggravate the affair by 
making a noise about it. All the Zuccati are down- 
right scoundrels, on my word ; you poison the at- 
mosphere, Messer ; go out!” 

Whilst speaking thus, Melchior kept moving 
further back, and old Zuccato, immovable in his 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 141 

place, kept regarding him with looks which actu- 
ally froze him with fear. 

“ If I had the plague,” said he at last, with a 
gloomy air, “ I should like to press in my arms all 
those who call the Zuccati defrauders. I hope that 
such an idea has occurred to no one, and that the 
magistrate to whom I have the honor of speaking, 
is at this time under the influence of fever or deli- 
rium. Yes, yes, Monsignor, it is the pestilence 
which speaks in you, when you say that the Zac- 
cati have misapplied the public money. Know 
that the Zuceati are of a noble race, and that the 
blood flowing in their veins is purer than that of 
many ducal families. Know that Francesco and 
Valerio are men who may be tortured, but not dis- 
honoured. YourSigniory will do well to summon 
your physician, for a mortal poison is indeed circu-^ 
lating in your blood !” 

As he finished these terrible words, Sebastian 
hastily left the Procurator, and hurried to the Ducal 
Palace. 

Melchoir rang his bell in agony, sent for his 
doctor, had himself bled, rubbed, and dosed, all 
night long, verily believing the old man had given 
him the Plague by sorcery. He swooned away 
several times, and was nearly dead with fright. 


142 


;CHAPTER xvn. 

Sebastian hastened to throw himself at the feet 
of the Doge, and demanded justice from him with 
all the eloquence of paternal love, and outraged 
honour. Mocenigo listened to him with kindness, 
and gave him marks of the highest esteem. He 
was afflicted at the long sufferings his sons had 
undergone, and took upon himself to transfer them 
to a less frightful prison. He even permitted the 
old man to see them every day, and lavish all the 
• care his affection suggested ; but he could not con- 
ceal from him that very heavy charges hung over 
them, and that their trial would be long and 
serious. 

However, thanks to the earnest intercession of 
old Zuccato, to the influence of Titian, Tintoretto, 
and many other great masters, all friends to the 
Zuccati, thanks also to the benevolent protection 
of the Doge, the Council of Ten, whose functions 
had been suspended by the Plague for some months, 
resumed their sittings, and the first affair which 
occupied their austere tribunal, was the trial of the 
Zuccati, accused of : — 

1st. — Having misapplied their salary by pro- 
ducing works without solidity, for example, work- 
ing out of season, (/uor dhtogione^) that is to say 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


134 


in times of frost, when the mastic will not adhere, 
that they might make up for time lost, in fine 
weather, in promenades, dissipation, and debauche* 
ry of every description. 

2nd. — Having produced figures which were 
both ill drawn and strangely coloured, through 
persisting in working at night, in order still to 
make up for former idleness — (ingordigia.) 

3rd. — Having produced this miserable work 
from entire ignorance of their trade, an ignorance 
which rendered Valerio Zuccato incapable of doing 
anything else but frivolous ornaments for the 
toilette of women and young people, {cuffie, fra$- 
tagli^ vesture^ etc.) which puerile labours occupied 
him incessantly, and even became a lucrative pro* 
fession at San Filippo, whilst the Republic paid 
dearly for work which he did not and could 
not do. 

4lh. — Having replaced by a shameful cheat, in 
many places, the pieces of enamel and stone, 
{ipezzi^) by wood and pasteboard merely painted, 
in order to display niceties of which mosaic work 
was not really susceptible — thereby attaining great 
credit as artists during their lives, but leavipg be- 
hind them productions which would not survive 
them. 

The articles of this strange trial may yet be 
found in the archives of the ducal palace, and 
Signor Quadri has extracted a faithful copy which 
may be read in an article entitled, “ Of the Mosaic 
Workers,” {Dd Musaici^) at the end of his excel- 
lent work upon Painting in Venice. 


144 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


The accusers were the Procurator- Cashier Mel- 
chior, Bartolomeo Bozza. the three Bianchini, 
Jean Visentln and several others of their school — 
besides Claude de Corregio, organist of St. Mark, 
who detested the noise of the workmen, and who 
would just as soon have -spok-en in favour of the 
Zuccati, against the Bianchini, in the hope that 
tired of these quarrels and dilapidations, the gov- 
ernment would give up these experrsive restora- 
tions, whose principal inconvenience in the organ- 
ists eyes, was interrupting by its continual noise 
the school for chanting, which he had established 
in the organ gallery. 

The witnesses in favour of the Zuccati were 
Titian and his son Orazio, Tintoretto, Paul Vero- 
n^Qse, Marini Ceccato, and the good priest Alberto 
Zio, All appeared before the council and testified 
to the great talent, the superior workmanship, the 
good conduct, industry, and exact probity of the 
Zuccati and their school. 

In their turn, the brothers Zuccati were brought 
before the judges; Valerio supported in his arms 
his idoHzed brother, wh^ was slowly recovering 
from his long and cruel illness ; feeble, broken 
down, and apparently scarcely caring for the issue 
of the trial, which he had not strength to support. 
Valerio w^s pale and worn. He had been furnish- 
ed with clothing, but his long beard and neglected 
hair, his unsteady w'alk and convulsive trembling, 
spoke of his sufferings and his grief. 

indifferent to his own sorrow, but indignant at 
the injustice done to his brother, he at last looked 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


145 


upon the serious side of life. Anger and revenge 
sparkled in his countenance, and dark, fiery flames 
shot from his eyes, hollowed by hunger, fatigue, 
and anxiety. 

On passing Bartolomeo Bozza to take his seat 
on the bench of the accused, he raised his arms, 
loaded with fetters, as though he would have 
crushed him, and his countenance glowing with 
fury seemed as though he would fain level him to 
the earth. The officers drew him forward, and he 
sat down, holding Francesco’s hand in his own 
cold trembling grasp. 

“Francesco Zuccato,” said the judge, “you are 
accused of robbery and fraud towards the Republic. 
What have you to reply to the charge 

“ I reply,” said Francesco, “ that I might as 
well be accused of murder and parricide, if it pleas- 
ed the fancy of my persecutors.” 

“ And Ij” cried Valerio, rising impetuously, “ I 
reply that we lay under the weight of an infamous 
accusation, and that we have languished for three 
months under the Leads,^ whence my brother has 
come out in a dying state, because the Bianchini 
hate us, and that Bozza our pupil is a scoundrel, 
but above all because the Procurator Monsignor 
Melchior has made a fault in his Latin which we 
allowed ourselves to correct. It is the first time 
two citizens were ever sent to the Leads for refus- 
ing to commit a barbarisha !” 

The violence of the younger Zuccati was not 
calculated to conciliate the magistrates. Old Se- 
bastian seeing the bad eflfeci of his harangue, rose 
and said: 13 


146 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


“ Be quiet my son, you are speaking both inso- 
lently and foolishly. It is not thus that an honest 
citizen ought to defend himself before the fathers 
of his country. Monsignors, excuse his ravings. 
The^e young men are affected by the fever. — Ex- 
amine their cause with your impartial justice; if 
they are culpable, punish them without pity ; their 
father will be the first to praise this act of justice 
and bless the laws whose severity represses fraud. 
Were it necessary to shed their blood myself, I 
would do it, venerable fathers, rather than see the 
august power of the Republic fall into discredit. 
But if they are innocent, of which I feel the utmost 
certainty, render them prompt and generous mercy, 
for behold my eldest scarcely breathes the breath 
of life, and the younger you see yourselves is under 
the influence of delirium.” Speaking thus the 
old man fell upon his knees, and tears streamed 
down his long white beard. 

“Sebastian Zuccato,” said the judge, “your 
probity and loyalty are well known to the Re- 
public ; you speak as a good father, and a good 
citizen, but if you have nothing else to say for 
your sons, you must now retire.” 

At a sign from the magistrate, the “ Familiar,” 
who had introduced Sebastian, led him away. The 
old man, as he retired, threw a look of despair 
upon his sons ; then turning for the last time to- 
wards the judges, joined his hands, and raised his 
eyes towards heaven with so agonized an expres- 
sion that it might have touched the marble pillars 
of the hall, but the Council of Ten seemed even 
colder and more inflexible. 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


147 


After, the three Bianchini had supported their 
accusation by oath, Bozza was summoned to give 
his evidence, and putting his hand upon the cruci- 
fix held out to him, he said : 

“ I swear by Christ that I have passed three 
months under the Leads, because I would not bear 
false witness.” A shudder of surprise passed 
through the assembly, Melchior frowned, Bianchi- 
ni the Red ground his teeth, and the young Valerio, 
hastily rising cried out, “ Is it possible, my unfor- 
tunate pupil, that I may yet pity and esteem you 1 
Ah ! that thought softens all my woes.” 

“ Be quiet, Valerio Zuccato,^’ said the judge, 
“ and let the witness speak.” 

Bartolomeo looked as weak and ill as the Zuc- 
catl. He had also suffered the slow torture of 
captivity. He declared that some days before St. 
Mark, Vincent Bianchini had conducted him to 
the scaffolding of the Zuccati, to show him, and 
make him examine many parts of the workj where 
pasteboard was evidently used instead of enamel, 
and that he had then taken him before the Procu- 
rator-Cashier, before whom, in the indignation and 
sincerity of his heart, he had deposed to the fact. 
Since that time, convinced of the bad faith of the 
Zuccati, he had not wished to be an accomplice in 
work which must meet with condemnation, and 
he had therefore laboured in the school of the Bian- 
chini. But on St. Mark’s Eve, Vincent, having 
again taken him before the Procurator, wished him 
to swear that he had been an eye witness of the 
fact, which he refused ; because, although he had 


t 


. 148 


THE MOSAIC WOEKERS. 


seen the proofs, yet he had not seen the fraud actu- 
ally committed. “ Had I seen it,” said he, “ I 
should not have waited for the warning of the 
Bianchini to quit the studio of the Zuceati, but 1 
had never seen anything of the kind. Never had 
the slightest fact occurred in the conduct of my 
masters to render the truth of the discovery we 
had just made even probable. It was therefore 
impossible to swear by Christ that I had seen them 
employ pasteboard and the paint-hrush. When 
Vincent Bianchini saw that I did not accede to his 
designs, he became angry, and accused me of col- 
lision with the Zuccati ; Monsignor Melchior me- 
naced me so strongly, that in tny irritation I warn- 
ed him to beware of the Bianchini. That very 
evening I was arrested, and conducted to the 
Leads. Since then I have imagined that my 
masters were innocent, and that a man capable of 
asking me to take a false oath, was also capable 
of having during the night, unknown both to the 
Zuccati and to every one else, des-troyed a part of 
the Mq^aic, and substituted pasteboard or wood 
for sto'ne, in order to ruin them. I must also de- 
clare that the substitution is made with so much 
art, that unless the surface is scratched, it would 
be impossible to perceive it.” 

Bozaa delivered his testimony with a firm voice 
and a Bolognese pronunciation, very slowly and 
very distinctly. Pressed to explain himself as to 
the continual diversions to which Valerio yielded, 
he owned that the young master was often admon- 
ished by his elder brother for indolence and dissi- 


3 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 149 

pation, and that he did make up for lost time by 
working at night, which might give colour to the 
reproach of having produced (fuor di stagione) 
work without solidity. He also stated that Va* 
lerio did not understand the business so well as 
his brother, and made many ornaments and deco- 
rations on his own account. In a word it was 
easy to see that his evidence was not influenced 
by friendship to the Zuccati, and that he would 
not have been displeased to have injured them’ 
by speaking the truth, but that he had a horror 
of the deceit into which he had nearly been drawn, 
and that he would never forgive the Bianchini 
for having caused him to be confined under the 
Leads. 

The council closed the silting of the day by nam- 
ing a convnittee of painters, charged with the 
examination, under the eyes of the Procurators, of 
the productions of the two rival schools. The 
committee was composed of Titian, Tintoretto, 
Paul Veronese, Jacopo Pistoza, and Andrea 
Schiavone, w'ho from that lime was surnaraed Me- 
dola, from the pains he took to examine mosaic 
even to its very marrow. 

13 * 


150 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

The next day these illustrious masters, accom- 
panied by their workpeople, the Procurators, and 
the Familiars of the Holy Office, went to St. Mark, 
and proceeded to the examination of the Mosaic 
work. At the Bianchini’s request they commenc- 
ed by their genealogical Tree of the Virgin, an 
immense undertaking, which had been execute'd in 
very little time. Vincent added to his vices an 
unbearable vanity. Greedy of praise, he followed 
Titian step by step, waiting for the explosion of 
his admiration. Beside him walked Dominic the 
Red, his eye sparkling with all the assurance of 
ignorant stupidity. Nevertheless Titian did not 
explain his opinion. Always spmfue/and cour- 
teous, he managed to say things which marked 
attention and interest, without compromising in 
any manner his judgment as a connoisseur. His 
polished attitudes, and gracious smiles, formed a 
contrast with the darkened brow and austere coun- 
tenance of Tintoretto. Although less intimate 
perhaps with the Zuccati, Robusti was far more 
indignant at the conduct of their rivals than Titian 
was. In the mind of Titian, who often nourished 
profound hatred and impracticable antipathies, the 
conduct of the Bianchini found, if not an excuse, 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


151 


at least a more indulgent consideration, from the 
jealousies of trade and artistic ambition. Perhaps 
also Tintoretto, recollecting the persecution he had 
himself suffered from Titian, wished to convey 
him, by indirect allusion, a legitimate reproach, 
by displaying his horror and contempt for such 
proceedings. He left the chapel of St. Isidore 
without unclosing his lips, and without once turn- 
ing his eyes upon those who accompanied him. 

But when beneath the great doom, he had under 
observation the work of the Zuccati, he burst forth 
into eloquent admiration ; his fine, though severe 
features lighted up with enthusiasm, and he dis- 
played all the perfections of the work with gene- 
rous warmth. Titian, who was an intimate friend 
of old Sebastian, and who had given many excel- 
lent lessons to the young Zuccati, added to these 
praises, without however depreciating the produc- 
tions of the Bianchini, in which respect he dis- 
played great prudence. But the Procurator-Cash- 
ier, vexed at the success of the Zuccati, commenc- 
ed with ; — 

“ Messrs, I would beg you to observe that we 
have not come here to see productions in painting, 
but productions in mosaic. It matters very little 
to the state whether the Virgin’s hand be modelled 
according to the rules of your art; it matters very 
little whether the calf of St. Isidore’s leg be pla- 
ced a little too high or too low. All that is very 
well to talk about . . . . ” 

“ How say you ! by Christ,” cried Titian, who 
on hearing such blasphemy, quite forgot his pru- 


152 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


dent courtesy, “ it matters little to the state 
whether the mosaists understand design, or whe- 
ther mosaic be an elegant and faithful representa- 
tion of the painters’ works ? It is the first time I 
ever heard of such a doctrine, Monsignor, and it 
needs all the respect your judgment inspires to 
convince me of the truth of such a theory.” 

Nothing fixed the erroneous convictions of the 
Procurator like contradiction. 

“ And 1, Messer Titian,” cried he warmly, “will 
sustain that all that is nothing but puerile minu- 
tiae and detail. These are nothing but the quarrels 
of a school, and the discussions of a workshop, 
and the gravity of the magistracy ought not to be 
compromised therein. Entrusted by the Republic 
with watching over its interests and carrying eco- 
nomy into its public expenditure, the Procurator 
will never allow the workmen of St. Mark to fail 
in their engagements in order to enjoy the vain 
pleasure of amusing those who may be amateurs 
of painting.” 

“ I did not think,” said Francesco, casting a 
mournful glance at his productions, “ 1 could fail 
in my engagements, by correcting as far as possi- 
ble the design of my figures, and conscientiously 
conforming to all the rules of my art.” 

“ Tknow all the rules of your art as well as 
you, Messer,” cried the Procurator, crimson with 
anger; “ you will never make me believe that a 
mosaist need be a painter. The Republic pays you 
to be a faithful and servile copier of the painters’ 
sketches, and provided you fasten your stones 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


153 


properly, and with nicety, to the wall, provided 
you know how to employ good materials, and to 
produce the effects of which they are capable, it 
matters very little whether you know the rules of 
design and the laws of painting. By the Ducal 
Cap, if you were great artists, the Republic might 
be yet more economical. It would then have no 
need to pay Messer Vecelli and Messer Robusti to 
design your cartoons. You might be left free to 
compose, arrange, and trace your subjects. Un- 
fortunately, we have not yet sufficient confidence 
in your knowleege of painting to trust so entirely 
to it.” 

“ And yet, Monsignor,” said Titian, who had 
recovered his self-command, and knew how to give 
a gracious expression to the smile of contempt 
playing on his lips, “ I must object to your Excel- 
lence, that in order to copy a design faithfully, 
one must be a good designer ; if not, the cartoons 
of Raphael might be confided to the first comer, 
and a good model to copy from would suffice to 
produce a great artist. It is not exactly so, and 
your Signiory will permit me to observe it, with 
all the respect I owe to your opinions ; but it is one 
thing to govern mankind by sublime wisdom, and 
quite another to amuse them by frivolous talents. 
\Ve should be much embarrassed, we poor arti- 
zans, if we were obliged, like your Signiory, to 
hold the reins of Slate with a firm, yet generous 
grasp, but, . . . . ” 

“ But you contend, flatterer,” said the mollified 
Procurator, “that as to painting and mosaic, yoa 


154 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


know more than we do. But at least you will not 
deny that solidity is an indispensable quality in 
this kind of work, and if, instead of employing 
stone, crystal, marble, or enamel, pastebo^, 
wood oil, or varnish is made use of, then you will 
confess that the funds of the Republic have not 
reached their true destination.” 

At this Titian felt a little- embarrassed, for he 
did not know how far this assertion of the Bian- 
chini might be well-founded, and he feared to 
compromise the Zuccati by an imprudent admis- 
sion.” 

“ I should at least deny,” said he, after a mo- 
ment’s hesitation, that such a substitution of ma- 
terials would constitute fraud, since it has been 
proved, 1 believe, that the paint-brush may be used, 
in certain parts, with as much solidity as enamel.” 

“Well that is what we shall see, Messer V'ale- 
rio,’ said the Procurator, “ for we would not wish 
to suspect your integrity in the affair. But sand 
and sponges here, and by the Ducal Cap, let -dll 
these panels be well rubbed.”- 

Francesco’s almost expiring eyes brightened, 
and turned with a contemptuous hatred towards 
the inscription where the word saxis replaced the 
barbarism saxibus. It was evident that if he was 
to be condemned for the alteration of a letter, he 
should at least be consoled by the public exposure 
of the ignorant Procurator’s blunder. Melchior 
understood his thought, and directed the proof to 
be turned to some other part of the dome. 

The mosaic of the Zuccati, rubbed and washed 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


at every point, stood the trial perfectly, and no 
»part was discovered which fell or even threatened 
to fall. The Procutor began to fear that the blind 
hatred of the Bianchini, and his own prejudices, 
had involved him in an affair which would not 
redound to his honour, but Vincent Bianchini, ap- 
proaching the two arch angels, of whom one was 
the portrait of Valerfo, and the other of Francesco 
Zuccati, said with assurance, “ It is certain that 
wood and pasteboard may resist sand and a damp 
sponge ; but it is not so certain that they can re- 
sist the action of time, and behold the proof,” — so 
saying he drew his dagger, and thrusting it into 
the naked breast of the archangel which represent- 
ed Francesco Zuccato, just at the heart, he detach- 
ed a morsel of something the colour of flesh, which 
he cut in two pieces with the blade, and presented 
to the Procurators. The fragment passed from 
hand to hand, Titian himself was obliged to agree 
that it was nothing but a morsel of wood. 


156 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Francesco and Valerio were reconducted to pri- 
son, and a week afterwards they again appeared 
before the Council of Ten. The report, correct- 
ed by the Commission of Painters, was read to 
them. They had abstained from signalizing the 
inferiority of the productions of the Bianchini, 
as they were aware that by depreciating their 
knowledge of art, they would irritate yet more 
the Procurator-Cashier, and as the situation of 
the Zuccati was already unfavorable, prudence 
required that they should not further inflame the 
hatred of their persecutors. But the Commission- 
ers had been lavish of praise to the cupola done by 
the Zuccati, and had vouched for the solidity of 
the work, with the exception of two comparatively 
unimportant figures, where wood had been em- 
ployed for stone. Titian had even affirmed that 
he esteemed this painted mosaic capable of resist- 
ing the action of time five hundred years and more. 
And his prediction has been verified, for these por- 
tions are yet in existence, and are as solid and 
as beautiful, as any other parts of the mosaic. As 
for the business knowledge of the younger Zucca- 
to, taxed with incapacity or ignorance by his accu- 
sers, he was victoriously defended by the record, 
and declared to be at least as skilful as his brother. 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


157 


After this declaration, the whole accusation re- 
solved itself into one charge, that of substituting 
unusual materials in the execution of the two arch- 
angels. 

tVancesco, when questioned upon what he had 
to say in his defence, replied, that having been 
long convinced of the advantage of this substitu- 
tion for certain details, and anxious to test its soli- 
dity, he had tried it in two unimportant figures, and 
that he had always intended to repair them at his 
own expense, if their duration did not answer ex- 
pectation, or the Republic disapproved of the in- 
novation. 

The Council did not seem disposed to admit 
tliis excuse. And tormented by questions and 
menaces, Valerio could no longer control himself. 
“Well,” cried he, “if you are determined to 
know, behold the secret, which my brother wished 
to keep. By revealing it to you, 1 know full well, 
that I expose myself not only to the envy and ha- 
tred which now weighs upon us, but to that of all 
our future rivals. I know that ignorant workmen, 
unworthy artisans, will be irritated to see in us 
conscientious artists; I know that they will pre- 
tend that mosaic is but a simj>le art of masonry, 
and they will treat him as a bad companion and 
ambitious rival, who raises it to an art, and carries 
to it a gleam of enthusiasm or the light of intelli- 
gence. I protest against such blasphemy; I main- 
tain that a true raosaist ought to be a painter, and 
I declare that my brother Francesco, the pupil of 
his father, and of Messer Titian, is a great pain- 
14 


158 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


ter, and I prove it by declaring that the two fig- 
ures of archangels, which have obtained the 
praises of the illustrious Commission named by the 
Council, were imagined, composed, designed, and 
coloured, by my brother, whose apprentice and 
workman I have been, by faithfully copying his 
cartoons. We have perhaps committed a great 
crime by allowing ourselves to consecrate to the 
Republic our best production, by offering it gratis 
and in secret, with the modesty becoming young 
people, and with the prudence belonging to men, 
devoted to other gods than money or fitvor. By 
accusing us of a fraud, we have been forced to re- 
nounce this prudence, this modesty. We demand, 
in consequence, that it be proved, whether we 
have tried this innovation any were except in a 
composition which had not even been ordered from 
os, and which we are ready to efface from the Ca- 
thedral, if the Government declare it unworthy to 
stand by the side of the productions of the Bian- 
chini.” 

The plans of the different compositions designed 
by the painters and confided to the Mosaists were 
consulted, but the two figures of archangels were 
not found. The Procurator Melchior pressed each 
of the painters to express his opinion upon the 
merit of the figures and his share in its production. 
As in this respect fhey had been invested with full 
and entire powers by the state, a single sketch 
traced by one of them would have sufficed to prove 
the Zuccaii, who were bound to execute their in- 
structions literally, guilty of faithlessness, diso- 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


159 


bediencn, and fraud, in employing a process of 
iheir own choice, and materials not approved by 
the Commission of Procurators. The painters on 
oath declared that they had never even had the idea 
of these figures, and as to their merit, they affirmed 
that they themselves could not create anything 
more correct and more noble. Titian was twice 
interrogated. His friendship for the Zuccati was 
well known, and also his finesse^ and skill in eva- 
ding any questions to which he did not wish to re- 
ply. When summoned to say if he were the au- 
thor of these figures, he replied with grace, “I 
would willingly be so, but on my eoncience, I 
have not even seen the design, and I did not even 
suspect their existence before the examination 
■which I w’as ordered to make, as a member of the 
Commission.” 

The Bianchini still declared that the Zuccati 
were not capable of themselves composing such 
excellent productions. Notwithstanding the pain- 
ter’s declaration, another enquiry was instituted, 
when Bozza was again summoned, as an old pu- 
pil of the Zuccati, to say if he had ever seen any 
painter put his hand to these figures. He deposed 
hat he had once seen Messer Orazio Vicelli, Ti- 
tian’s son come by night to the workshop of the 
Zuccati whilst they were yet labouring at them. 
Orazio was heard, and attested on oath, that he 
had never even seen them, and that his visit at 
night to the workshop at San Filippo, had no other 
object than to order from Valerio a bracelet of mo- 
fiaic work to give to a lady. Thus there remained 


160 


'fHE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


no proof against the Ziiccati — they were acquitted, 
but charged with replacing at their own expense, 
by fragments of stone or enamel, the pieces of 
coloured wood employed in various parts of their 
figures. This part of the decree was nothing but 
a form in order not to encourage innovations. Its 
execution was not even enforced, for the coloured 
fragments of wood still exist. The Procura- 
tor’s barbarism has been reinstated just as it issued 
from the learned brain of the Magistrate, and be- 
low the two archangels may be read the following 
touching inscription alluding to the persecutions 
suffered by the Zuccati. 

UbI DILIGENTER 
InSPEXERIS ARTEMQ AC LABO- 
REM FrANSCISCI ET VaLERII 
ZvcATi Venetorvm fratrvm 
agnoveris tvm demvm ivdi- 

CATO. 


161 


CHAPTER XX. 

Notwithstanding the happy issue of the trial, 
much was o be done before the Zuccati’s fortune 
could assume a happy aspect. Francesco was re- 
covering his health but slowly. No new public 
work was entrusted to the mosaists. It was even 
proposed to stop entirely, and preserve the Byzan- 
tine mosaics; for the manners of the day were 
becoming austere, and whilst sumptuary laws 
were ordering into mourning every mantle ^and 
every gondola, even those, the least inclined to 
gravity by nature, affected, in imitation, to clothe 
themselves in the Roman toga, and only to wear 
iron and silver ornaments. Economy was in every 
one’s mouth, the pestilence had put a stop to trade, 
and as men quickly pass from one extreme to the 
other, sordid reductions, and puerile reforms were 
now the order of the day. The artists suffered 
deeply from this period of financial panic. The 
Procurator-Cashier was not a solitary instance 
of folly, but the representative of many narrow 
minds. 

Francesco had fallen into a state of profound 
discouragement. A most enthusiastic artist, he 
had desired, he had hoped for glory. He had 
served it, as one serves a noble mistress, by noble 
sacrifices, by an ardent and exclusive worship. 

14 + 


162 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


For his only recompense he had seen himself ex- 
posed to a frightful prison, imminent death, and a 
disgraceful trial. In addition to this, the success 
of his chef d'oeuvres was disputed. Men do not see 
with impunity misfortune fall upon an elevated 
character. In their mediocrity they feel bewil- 
dered, and seek by all means to legitimize and jus- 
tify the evils by which he is overwhelmed. 

It was quite sufficient that a piece of wood had 
been found in one of the productions of the Zuc- 
cati, for the public to think that all their mosaic 
was executed in wood, lire citizens even went 
so far as to say it was made of paper, and con- 
vinced of its want of solidity, they would have im- 
agined themselves wantipg in patriotism had they 
even raised their heads to examine the beauty of 
the figures. The young artist was thus wounded 
in his inmost soul, and suffered the more because 
he carefully concealed his feelings, and despised 
the public too much to allow it the satisfaction of 
seeing him overcome. Retired in his little cham- 
ber at San Filippo, he passed his days at the win- 
dow, given up to sad thoughts, and had no other 
distraction from his grief than watching the long 
climbing plants in his little court blown about by 
the wind. This calm spectacle filled him with 
delight, after the confinement of the Leads, where 
the want of air had been slowly undermining his 
life. 

In the days of his good fortune, and expensive 
amusements, Valerio had contracted some consid- 
erable debts; his creditors tormented him. Fran- 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


163 


cesco discovered it, and devoted all his savings to 
their payment. Valerio did not know it till some 
time after; he was mournful enough, without re- 
morse adding its inquietude to that which the fail- 
ing health of his idolized brother caused him. 
The idea of losing him overcame all his strength 
of mind, and he felt that, notwithstanding his na- 
tural disposition to think lightly of life’s evils, he 
could never be consoled for his loss. Incapable 
of melancholy, too energetic for resignation, 
or for despair, he gave way often to fits of violent 
indignation, to which succeeded the most brilliant 
dreams of glory and happiness, although no one 
less than hiipself had need of glory to be happy. 
Old Sebastain conjured them in vain to take up 
the brush, and renounce the low profession of mo- 
saist; but Francesco had suffered too rude a 
shock to give himself up to new hopes. To try a 
new career at thirty required too much resolution 
for a frame so weak, and a spirit so deeply wound- 
ed. To his own sorrows were added those of his 
friends ; his disgrace had lost Ceccato his privilege 
of mastership; he and Marini were both languish- 
ing in destitution ; and in vain did Francesco soli- 
cit for payment for his year’s work. 

The finances, like all other parts of the adminis- 
tration, were in the greatest disorder. All his en- 
treaties were useless; he was put off from day to 
day, from week to week. The secret hatred of the 
Procurator-Cashier was the principal cause of this 
delay of payment. It was his dull vengeance for 
the Zuccati’s irony, which, in his opinion, had not 
been sufficiently punished by the Council. 


164 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


The Znccati were resolved to share their last 
morsel of bread with their faithful apprentices. 
They supported Marini, Ceccato, his young wife 
now recovering her health, and her last child. 
Valerio still earned a little money from the Greeks 
at Venice, by selling jewels to them, but this re- 
source was not sufficient for so numerous a family, 
when the last of Francesco’s savings had vanish- 
ed. Valerio bitterly reproached himself for ha- 
ving saved nothing, and felt too late that extrava- 
gance is a vice. “Yes,” said he, sighing, “the 
man who spends in vain pleasures and empty pa- 
rade, the price of his labour, deserves no Wends, 
for he deprives himself of the power of assisting 
them in the day of their distress.” 

But it is wonderful to see with what indefatiga- 
ble zeal, by what ingenious devotion he repaired 
his past faults. He divided his own small lodg- 
ings into three parts, the workshop, the eating 
room, and Francesco’s chamber. He himself 
slept upon a mat in any corner, usually upon the 
terrace of his dwelling. In the day time, he 
worked assiduously, and employed his apprentices 
on fresh mosaic work, hoping that a time might 
come when the monuments of art would no longer 
be classed as objects of mere luxury or fantasy. 
He took upon himself all the household cares, and 
if he allowed Ceccato’s wife to prepare the din- 
ner, he would never suffer her to fatigue herself 
with going to purchase it. He went himself to 
the fish market, to the vegetable market, to the 
frittole, and he might often be seen, with the sweat 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


165 


on his brow, traversing the bye-streets with a bas- 
ket under his mantle. If he met any of the young 
patricians, who had once shared his extravagance 
and amusements, he carefully avoided them, and 
obstinately concealed his penury, lest they should 
send him succour, the mere offer of which would 
have humiliated him. He affected to have lost 
nothing of his gaity, >rrt the forced laugh upon 
his faded lips, the fiery glances from eyes now 
bright only with fever and excitement, could only 
deceive a common friendship or pre-occupied 
minds. One day a's Yalerio was returning through 
a small dark and silent court which served as a 
passage, he saw endeavouring to sustain himself 
against the damp wall, a man who seemed ready 
to sink through weakness. He approached, ana 
supported him in his arms. But what was his 
surprise when he recognized in this man, covered 
with Tags, and worn down by hunger, and whom 
he had taken for a beggar, his old pupil, Bar- 
tolomeo Bozza. 

‘‘Then they are in Venice,’’ exclaimed he, 
“artists yet more unhappy than myself.” 

He made him swallow a little of the Tstrian 
wine, of which he had a bottle in his basket, and 
then gaye him some figs, which the unfortunate 
being seized with a voracity which did not allow 
him even to reject the skin. When his hunger 
was a little appeased, he recognized the charitable 
man who had assisted him. A flood of tears fell 
from his eyes, but Valerio could never understand 
whether it was shame, remorse, or gratitude, 


166 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


which made them flow, for Bozza uttered not a 
word, and turned as though to go away. But the 
kind-hearted Valerio stopped him. 

“ Where would you go, unhappy one?” said 
he; “do not you feel that you have not recovered 
your strength, and that you will sink again in a 
few moments. 1 am poor also, and cannot offer 
you money ; but come with me, and your old 
friends will receive you with open arms, and 
whilst there is a measure of rice at San Filippo, 
you shall share it with us.” 

He drew him on as he spoke, and Bozza yield- 
ed mechanically, without showing either joy or 
surprise. 


167 


CHAPTER XXI. 

Francesco could not repress a feeling of repug- 
nance when Bozza made his appearance ; he knew 
that this young man, although incapable of a base 
or dishonest action, had no benevolence, no affec- 
tion, no generous sentiment, in his heart. All 
suggestions of tenderness, or sympathy were 
overpowered in him by his unconquerable pride 
and insatiable ambition. Nevertheless, when he 
heard from Valerio the state in which he had found 
.Bozza, he ran to seek some of his own clothes, 
and one of his best robes, and offered them to him, 
whilst Valerio prepared for him a substantial meal. 
From that moment Bozza formed part of the indi- 
gent family, which still through order, economy, 
and labour, lived honourably at San Filippo. 
Valerio did not regret his own hard work, and 
every evening when he saw all his old scholars 
meet at his humble repast, his soul opened once 
more to joy, and he gave himself up to gaiety. 
But when Francesco anxiously met Bozza’s glance, 
it never expressed anything but indifference or 
disdain. Bozza could not even comprehend the 
heroic devotion of the Zuccati. He understood 
their nobleness of soul so little, that he attributed 
* it to motives of personal advantage, to a design of 


108 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


founding a new school, and of experimenting on 
the work of their apprentices, and binding them 
by such services that they could not engage them- 
selves to a rival studio. Thus the same line of 
conduct which his companions, and with justice, 
thought sublime, to him seemed simply a skilful 
calculation. 

But their destitution became yet more pressing. 
The Zuccati had resolved to bear the severest pri- 
vations rather than have recourse to the illustrious 
masters whose friendship they possessed. Their 
father’s fortune was very moderate ; and his pride 
had always made him refuse any assistance from 
his sons, placed, according to his ideas, in so low 
a condition of life. In their prosperous days, they 
had devoted a part of their salary to him, but in 
order to make him accept of it, Titian had been 
obliged to send it in his own name. Now that 
the Zuccati could no longer assist their father, 
Titian himself continued the pension, and the 
grateful sons concealed their misery through fear 
of trespassing upon his generosity. 

Happily, Tintoretto still watched over them, 
though he himself was at this time much embar- 
rassed. 

Art seemed to have fallen into discredit. The 
brotherhoods paid their ex voto at as little expense 
as possible, and it was even proposed to dispose 
of all the pictures in the schools, and give the pro- 
ceeds to the poor workmen of the Corporations. 
The partricians concealed their luxury in the seclu- 
sion of their palaces, that they might not be ren- 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


IGO 

dered liable to too heavy taxes for the relief of the 
poor. Nevertheless, Tintoretto still found means 
to benefit his unfortunate friends. U-nknown to 
them, he procured the disposal of many of the 
ornaments they made, and did not cease importun- 
ing the Senate to give them employment. At last 
he succeeded in proving the necessity for farther 
reparations of the Cathedral. A certain number 
of the ancient Byzantine mosaics (those which 
are still seen in St. Mark’s) were capable of being 
preserved, but it was necessary to remove them 
entirely, and replace them upon .new cement. 
Many parts were quite irreparable, and must be 
replaced by new compositions, before the whole 
was quite destroyed, which would have occasioned 
far greater expense. The Senate decided upon 
the reparations, ^ind voted supplies for their accom- 
plishment; but also decided upon reducing the 
number of Mosaic workers, and that in future, to 
put a stop to all rivalry, there should be but one 
chief and one school. The Chief of the schools 
was to be he, whom after a trial of all the work- 
men before employed, the Commission of Painters 
should declare to be the most skilful, and>his school 
was to be formed, not from his own choice, accord- 
ing to4iis or his family’s interests, but according 
to the degree of talent displayed by the other com- 
petitors for the prize. 'I'here was to be a principal 
prize, a second prize, and four accessory prizes, 
and the number of masters was limited to six. 

The commission was named, and consisted of 
the same painters who. had examined the produc- 
15 


170 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


tions of the Zuccati and the Bianchini. The com- 
petition was open, and the proposed subject was a 
Mosaic picture, representing St. Jerome. At the 
same time that Tintoretto carried this happy news 
to the Zuccati, he was also the bearer of the hun- 
dred ducats which were due to them for their year’s 
labour, which he had at last succeeded in obtain- 
ing. This unexpected victory over a destiny so 
sad and terrible, revived the expiring energy of 
both Francesco and Bozza, but in a widely differ- 
ent manner, for whilst Francesco embraced his 
brother and his beloved apprentices, Bozza, utter- 
ing a sharp savage cry of joy, like that of the sea 
eagle, darted out of the workshop, and did not re- 
appear. His first action was to run to the Bian- 
chini, and to explain to them their respective situ- 
ations. Bozza felt hatred and contempt for the 
Bianchinij but he felt that he could make use of 
them. It was evident to him that either from 
partiality or justice, the productions of Francesco 
and his pupils would be esteemed the first at the 
examination. The Bianchini were mere workmen, 
and certainly would only be admitted to work 
under orders in the future undertakings of the 
Senate. Besides, Bozza knew that the state of 
langour and illness of Francesco, would not per- 
mit him to labour. He imagined that Valerio 
would himself produce the two compositions 
ordered from the Zuccati, that even the apprentices 
must assist in them, for the time allowed was 
short, and the Commission wished to judge of the 
promptitude as well as the knowledge of the com- 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


171 


petitors. He flattered himself in the depths of his 
soul, that he could contend against their whole 
school. During his last stay at San Filippo, he 
had studied design attentively, and sought to learn 
all the secrets of colour and outline, which Valerio 
had of his own accord naively and generously com- 
municated. 

Although hoping to surpass the Zuccati, Bozza 
was not blind to the difficulty of supplanting Fran- 
cesco, whose name was already illustrious, whilst 
his was yet unknown. To displace him, it was 
necessary that the Procurators should be able to 
intimidate the painters by the intrigues and me- 
naces of Melchoir. At present they were favour- 
able to the Bianchini, who had grossly flattered 
them, by declaring that they knew much more 
about painting and mosaic than Titian or Tintoret- 
to. Resolved to struggle against the talent of the 
Zuccati, Bozza had now only to make the Bian- 
chini favourable to him. He did it by showing 
them that they could not do without him, because 
' they were absolutely ignorant of the rules of draw- 
ing, and that their works would infallibly be dis- 
missed from the competition, if they did not yield 
their superintendence to him. This insolent pre- 
tension did not wound the Bianchini as much as 
Bozza expected. Money was even dearer to them 
than praise, and the coldness of the painters to- 
wards them, at the last examination, had given 
them great fears for the future. They therefore 
accepted Bozza’s offer, and even consented to ad- 
vance him ten ducats. With the half of this sum, 


172 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


he immediately ran to purchase a handsome chain, 
which he sent to the Znccati, and which Frances- 
co threw round his brother’s neck, without know- 
ings from whom it came. 

On all sides work went on with ardour. But 
•Francesco, reanimated for an instant by hope, 
reckoned too much upon his strength, and again 
overcome by fever, after a few days was obliged 
to interrupt his own work, and superintend from 
his bed the labours, of his school. 


173 


CHAPTER XXII. 

This relapse caused such deep mortification to 
Valerio that he felt compelled to abandon his work, 
and withdraw from the competition. Francesco’s 
state was alarming, and the anguish he felt at the 
sight of his interrupted cAf/* (Tauvre augmented his 
physical sufferings. These were increased when 
Ceccato’s wife thoughtlessly told him one day, 
that she had seen Bozza in the ‘Bianchini’s work- 
shop. This trait of ingratitude seemed to him so 
black that he wept with indignation, and suffered 
a fresh attack of fever. Valerio, seeing him so 
tormented, pretended that Nina must have been 
mistaken, and that he would himself go to make 
it sure. He could scarcely believe in so much in- 
sensibility on the part of one, with whom, after so 
many grievances, he had shared his last resources. 
He ran to San Fantino, where the Bianchini’s 
workshop was situated, and saw through the half- 
opened door, Bozza, occupied in directing the 
young Antonio. He sent for him, and having 
drawn him to some distance, warmly reproached 
him with his conduct. 

“ When I saw you so hastily depart the other 
day,” said he, “I well understood that at the first 
hope of personal success, your old friends would 
15 * 


174 


THE MOSAKJ WORKERS. 


become strangers ; in that [ recognized the egotism 
of the artist, and my brother endeavoured to excuse 
it by saying that glory is a passion so imperious, 
that all is hushed before it; but between egotism 
and malice, between ingratitude and perfidy, there 
is a distance I did not expect you would have 
overstepped so lightly. Honour to you, Bartolo- 
meo, you have given me a striking lesson, and 
have made me doubt the sacred power of benefits.” 

Speak not of benefits, Messer,” replied Bozza 
in a dry tone, “ I have accepted none. You suc- 
coured me in the hopes of my being useful to you. 
For myself I did not wish to be useful to you, and 
I have paid you for your services by a gift, the 
value of which far surpasses the expenses which 
you have incurred for me.” 

Speaking thus, Bozza looked and pointed at the 
chain Valerio wore around his neck. No sooner 
did Valerio understand what he meant, than he 
tore it off ^so violently that it broke in several 
pieces, 

“ Is it possible,” cried he, repressing tears of 
mingled sorrow and anger, ‘‘is it possible that you 
have had the audacity to send me a present?” 

‘‘ It is a thing done every day,” replied Bozza. 
“ I do not deny the civility you have shewn in re- 
ceiving me, and I am even obliged to you for not 
having felt any anxiety as to the advances you 
have made for my nourishment.” 

“ Thus,” said Valerio, clasping the chain in his 
trembling hand, and fixing on Bozza eyes which 
sparkled with fury, you took my workshop for a 
tavern, and you thought that I kept open table on 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


175 


speculation ? It is thus you appreciate my sacri- 
fices, my devotion to unfortunate brethren! Even, 
when to give you time to work, 1 myself prepared 
your dinner, you took me for your cook !” 

I had no such ideas,” replied Bozza coldly, 

I thought you wished to bind an artist whom you 
thought not without talent; and to free myself by 
rewarding you, I have sent you a gift. Is not that 
the custom !” 

At these words Valerio, exasperated, threw the 
chain violently in his face. Bozza was struck near 
the eye, and the blood flowed. 

“ You will answer to me for this insult,^’ said 
he coolly, “if I restrain myself here, it is because 
one word from me would send ten poniards to your 
heart. We shall meet again, I hope?” 

“ Doubt it not,” replied Valerio. 

And they parted. 

Returning home, Valerio met Tintoretto, and 
related to him all that had just occurred. He also 
told him of Francesco’s relapse. The master was 
sincerely grieved, but seeing that Valerio was tho- 
roughly discouraged, he took care not to give him 
that vulgar consolation which only embitters mor- 
tification, in ardent spirits. On the contrary he 
affected to share his fears for the future, and to 
regard Bozza as quite capable of surpassing him in 
the competition, and also of so well superintending 
the Bianchini’s school, that it would carry away 
the prize from the Zuccati. 

“ That is indeed sad to think of,” added he. 
“ These are men who know nothing in fact of art, 


* 176 THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 

but thanks to a young man who knew nothing of 
it likewise a short time since, thanks to the perse- 
verance and assiduity which often serve instead of 
genius, the finest talents will perhaps be obliged to 
seek the shade, whilst ignorance, or at any rate, 
bad taste, will sway the sceptre. Adieu to art! 
behold' the days of its decline are at hand.” 

“The evil is perhaps not unavoidable, my dear 
master,” exclaimed Valerio, stimulated, by this 
feigned depression. “Thank God, the trial is not 
come yet, and Bozza has not yet produced Yixschef 
d' flsuure.” 

“ I will not conceal from you,” replied Tinto- 
retto, ^'^that his commencement is very fine; I glan- 
ced at it yesterday, when passing San Fantino, 
and I was surprised, for 1 did not think Bozza c'a- 
pable of such a design. His pupil, young Anto- 
nio, is full of talent, and besides, Bartolomeo re- 
touches his attempt so minutely that he will not 
leave a fault. He also directs the other two, and 
the Bianchini are such servile copyists, that with 
a good master they are capable of designing well, 
by the mere instinct of imitation, without any 
knowledge of drawing.” 

“ But, master,” said Valerio, anxiously, ‘‘you 
would not give the prize to charlatans, to the in- 
jury of the true servaiits of art? Neither would 
Messer Titian 1” 

“ My son, in this contest, we are not called upon 
to judge men, but their productions, and for more 
security, it is probable that the names will be out 
of the question. Besides, you are aware that it is 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 177 

customary to give judgment without seeing the sig- 
nature of any work. An officer covers the name 
with paper, before submitting the picture to us. 
This custom is a symbol of the impartiality by 
which our judgments ought to be dictated. If 
Bozza surpasses you, my heart will bleed, but my 
lips will declare the truth. If the Bianchini tri- 
umph, I shall think that imposture wins the day 
over fidelity, vice over virtue; but I am not the 
Inquisitor, and I have only to judge whether por- 
tions of enamel be more or less weH arranged 
in a frame-work.” 

I know that well, master,'” replied Valerio a 
little piqued, ^ but why do you think that the 
school of the Zuccati will not force you to accord 
the palm to them ? Such at least is their inten- 
tion. Who asks for a culpable partiality ? We 
would not wish it, even supposing we could ob- 
tain it from you.” 

You appear to me so much discouraged, my 
poor Valerio, and you have such an enormous un- 
dertaking to accomplish, if Francesco’s health be 
not shortly re-established, that in truth lam alarm- 
ed at the position in which you are placed. Be- 
sides Francesco being ill, does your school still 
exist? You are a skilful master, you are endowed 
with a marvellous facility, and inspiration seems to 
hover round you. But have you not always turn- 
ed your back on glory ? Are you not insensible to 
the applause of a crowd ^ Do not you prefer the 
seductions of pleasure, or the dolce far niente to 
titles, iches, and honours? You are a man admi- 


178 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


rably gifted, my young master. Your intelligence 
can overcome all things, but it must not be con- 
' cealed that you are notan artist. You disdain'the 
strife, you despise the stake, you are loo disinterest- 
ed even to descend into the arena. Bozza, with 
but the hundredth part of your genius, will sooner 
gain all by ambition, by perseverance, and by his 
very hardness of heart.” 

‘‘ You are perhaps right, master,” said Valerio, 
•who had listened to this discourse with a thought- 
ful air. I thank you for having expressed your 
fears to me ; they are the effects of your kind soli- 
citude, and I think they are too well founded. 
Nevertheless, master, we shall see!. Adieu.” 

Speaking thus, Valerio, according to the custom 
of the lime and country, kissed the hand of the 
illustrious master, and with light steps crossed 
the Rialto. 


179 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Valerio upset everything on returning to his stu- 
dio. He walked with energy, spoke loudly, hum- 
med the chorus of a drinking song in rather a 
gloomy tone, said harsh things in a tender manner, 
broke his tools, ridiculed his pupils, and approach- 
ing his brother’s couch, he embraced him passion- 
ately, saying, with an air half crazy, half inspired, 

Be easy, Checo, you will soon be well, you 
shall have the first prize, we will produce a chef 
d^ocuvre at the competition ; come, come, nothing is 
lost, the muse has not yet flown back to her native 
heaven.” 

Francesco looked at him astonished. 

“ What is the matter with you ]” said he, “ you 
speak strangely. What has happened? Have you 
quarrelled with any one? Have you met the Bi- 
anchini ?’’ 

“ Explain yourself, master, tell us what has 
passed,” added Marini. “ If I may believe some 
reports, 1 could not help hearing this morning, 
Bozza’s picture is already far advanced, and it is 
said will prove a chef d'' oeuvre; this is what tor- 
ments you, master; but re-assure yourself, our ef- 
forts . . . . ” 

“ Tormented, 1 ! ” cried Valerio, “ and how long 
pray have 1 been accustomed to torment myself 
when one of my pupils distinguished himself. At 
what period of my life have you ever seen me dis- 
quieted or afflicted by the success or triumph of an 
artist 1 Really till am envious! 1! is it so ?” 


180 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


“ Wherefore this sensitiveness my good master 
said Ceccato. “Which of us ever had such an 
ideal But tell us, we beg you, whether it be true, 
that Bozza has outlined an admirable composi- 
tion 

“ Undoubtedly,” said Valerio, smiling, and sud- 
denly resuming his ordinary gaiety and gentleness, 
“he ought to be able to do it, for I have given him 
sufficiently good rules. Well, what makes you all 
look so mournful 1 What is the matter now 1 One 
would think you were so many willows drooping 
over a dried up fou^ain ! Let me see, what can 
bethematlerl Has'Nina forgotten the dinner.^ 
Has the Procurator-Cashier dictated a new bar- 
barism 1 Come, my children, to work ! there is not 
a day to be lost, nay, >not 'even an hour, quick, 
quick, the tools! the enamels! the boxes ! and let 
every one surpass himself, for Bozza is doing great 
things, and we must do greater still !” 

From this moment joy and activity returned to 
the little workshop of San Filippo. Francesco 
seemed to return to life by seeing in all these friend- 
ly faces, the gleam of hope and sacred joy, which 
had already produced the master pieces of the cu- 
pola of St. Mark. Doubt had for a moment oppress- 
ed these young heads, like a leaden dome weigh- 
ing upon laughing Caryatides; but Valerio had 
chased it away with a single pleasantry. The in- 
tense energy of his will was concentrated within 
himself, and was only manifested by an overflow- 
ing gaiety. But an important change -bad taken 
place in Valerio, he was no longer the same man. 
Although not infected by the spirit of vanity, al- 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


181 


ihough not become one of those jealous minds who 
cannot endure the glory or triumph of another, yet 
he had become religiously devoted to his profes* 
sion; his character had become serious, under an 
appearance of gaiety. Misfortune had wounded 
him in the most sensitive part of his soul, by affect- 
ing those dearest to him, and proving to him by 
severe lessons, the advantages of prudence. He 
had just learned the reason of the state of poverty 
in which Francesco was left after his trial, notwith- 
standing the economy and regularity of his life. 
When Valerio discovered in his brother’s coffer, 
the acquittances of all his own creditors, he wept 
like the prodigal son. Great souls have often great 
defects, but they conquer them, and by this they 
are distinguished from the vulgar herd. Valerio, 
after this time, however rich, never departed from 
the rules of moderation and simplicity he now, in 
the depths of his heart, imposed upon himself. HS 
never even mentioned this discovery nor his reso- 
lution to any one ; but his gratitude to Francesco 
was proved by the devotion of his whole life, and 
his firmness of purpose by a morality proof against 
every temptation. 

Serene joy, cheerful industry, songs and laughter, 
again woke the sleeping echoes of the little work- 
shop. The winter was very severe, but there was 
no want of wood, and every one had a handsome 
robe made of cloth, trimmed with zibeline, and a 
warm velvet doublet. Francesco’s strength in- 
creased as though by magic. Nina recovered Ijer 
health and beauty, and became pregnant with a 
16 


182 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


second infant, the expectation of which consoled her 
for the loss of her first-born. The child who had 
survived the pestilence grew wonderfully, and the 
little Marietta Robusti, his godmother, often came 
to play with him in the workshop of the Zuccali. 
This charming girl showed a naive interest in the 
labours of her youthful friends, and already show- 
ed great capabilities of appreciating their merits. 

The eventful day at last arrived, and all the pic- 
tures were carried into the sacristy of St. Mark, 
where the examining committee were assembled. 
San Sovino had been joined to the artists previous- 
ly named. 

Valerio had done his utmost, and a lively hope 
reigned in his bosom. He went to the competition 
with that noble confidence which does not exclude 
the truest modesty. He loved art for itself, he was 
happy in having done justice to his own concep- 
^ons, and no human injustice could deprive him 
of this innocent satisfaction. Francesco was visibly 
agitated, but without false shame, hatred, or jeal- 
ousy. His pale, but beautiful countenance, his de- 
licate and trembling lips, his bearing, at once timid 
and proud, deeply interested all the members of 
the Commission. All desired to award the prize to 
him, but their attention was diverted by the ap- 
pearance of a man so worn, so painfully agitated, 
so convulsively bent, whilst paying his salutations, 
half fearfully, half insolently, that they were at 
first startled, as one often is by the aspect of a mad- 
man. Soon, however, Bozza recovered his sang- 
/roidj and assumed a more becoming manner, but 
he felt every moment ready to swoon. 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


183 


The mosaists waited in an adjoining room, 
whilst the painters proceeded to the examination 
of their productions. After an hour's time, which 
to Bozza seemed an age, they were summoned, 
and Tintoretto, stepping forward to meet them, 
begged them to seat themselves in silence. The 
silence was not difficult to obtain. His austere 
countenance gave no hint of that which each one 
longed so ardently to discover. All felt oppressed, 
respired with difficulty, and their hearts beat vio- 
lently. When seated in their appointed place, 
Titian, as chief of the Commision, placing himself 
near the pictures, which were ranged in a line up- 
on the wall, read the following formula, with a firm 
and sonorous voice : 

“We, Vecelli, surnamed Titian, Jacopo Robusti, 
surnamed Tintoretto, Jacopo Sansovino, Jacopo 
Pistoja, Andrea Schiavone, Paolo Veronese, all 
masters in painting, acknowledged by the Senate, 
and the honourable and fraternal Corporation of 
Painters, commissioned by the glorious Republic 
of Venice, and nominated by the venerable Coun- 
cil of Ten to the functions of judges of the works 
presented at this competition ; with the help ofGod, 
the light of reason, and integrity of heart, have ex- 
amined attentively, conscientiously, and impartial- 
ly, the said productions, and have unanimously de- 
clared alone worthy of being promoted to the chief 
mastership and direction of all the under-mentioned 
masters, the author of the picture upon which we 
have inscribed No. I., with the Seal of the Com- 
mission. This picture, of the name of whose au- 
thor we are entirely ignorant, faithful to our oath of 


184 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


not reading the signatures before we pronounce our 
opinion as to the respective merits, will now be 
displayed to your eyes and to ours.” 

At the same moment, Tintoreito withdrew the 
veil which covered the picture, and took away the 
band which concealed the signature. A cry of joy 
escaped Francesco. The successful picture was 
his brother’s. Valerio, who had never in his wild- 
est hopes, expected more than the second prize, 
was dumb with surprise, and only yielded to his 
own delight when he witnessed the transport of 
his brother. 

The second picture crowned was that of Fran- 
cesco, and the third that of Bozza. But when 
Tintoretto, who pitied his anguish, and imagined 
he should confer great joy upon him, turned round, 
expecting to see him, like the others, rise and un- 
cover himself, he was forced to summon him three 
times. Bozza remained motionless, his arms cros- 
sed on his breast, leaning against the wall, and his 
head sunk upon his bosom. The third prize was 
too far below his ambition. His teeth were so 
firmly closed, and his limbs so contracted, ihat he 
was obliged to be almost carried away after the 
competition. The last prizes were given to Cecca- 
to, Gian Antonio Bianchini, and Marini. The two 
other Bianchini failed, but the Republic afterwards 
employed them when it became evident that the 
number of master mosaists had been too much lim- 
ited. But their tasks were assigned to them in estab- 
lishments where they w^ere no longer in contact or 
rivalship with the Zuccati,and thenceforw^ard their 
hatred became utterly powerless. 


185 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

After the conclusion of the sitting, Titian ex- 
horted the young laureates, not to fancy that they 
had arrived at perfection, but to study long and 
faithfully the models of the old masters, and the 
cartoons of the painters. “ It is in vain,” said he, 
“ that at the sight of brilliant fragments, skilfully 
put together, and bearing a coarse resemblance to 
objects of worship, the vulgar crowd bow down 
and adore; it is in vain that prejudiced people 
deny that mosaic is capable of attaining to the 
beauty of design of fresco painting ; let those 
amongst you who feel by what different senti- 
ments they have merited our suffrages, and sur- 
passed their competitors, persevere in the love of 
virtue and the study of nature ; and let those who 
have committed the error of working without any 
rule and settled conviction profit by their defeat, 
and give themselves sincerely up to study. It is 
never too late to abjure a false system, and to 
make up for lost time.” 

He then entered into a detailed examination of 
all the productions submitted to the Commission, 
and fully explained their beauties and defects. He 
particularly dwelt on Bozza’s errors, after having- 
bestowed great praise upon the fine portions of his 
picture. He found fault with his Saint Jerome 
for the ungraceful character of the outlines, and a 
certain hardness of expression, more fitted for a 
Pagan warrior than a Christian saint, a conven- 


186 ' 


THE MOSAIC WOEKERS. 


tional style of colouring, utterly devoid of vitality, 
and a cold, almost a contemptuous expression. “ It 
is a fine figure,” said he, “but it is not St. Jerome.’^ 

Titian also spoke of the Bianchini, and endea- 
voured to soften the bitterness of their utter failure 
by praising their work in a certain point of view. 
As it was his custom always to mix more honey 
than wormwood in his discourse, after praising 
the manual part of their work he endeavoured also 
to say something favourable of the design, but in 
the midst of a compliment he was interrupted by 
Tintoretto, who pronounced these words, still pre- 
served in the record : “ I have pronounced no judg- 
ment as to these figures, nor as to their goodness 
because I have not been ordered so to do.” 

After this memorable morning, Titian gave a 
great dinner to all the painters of the Commission, 
and to all the crowned Mosaists. The little Mari- 
etta appeared dressed as a sybil, and Titian sketch- 
ed from her, that evening, his design for the head 
of the infant virgin, in the fine picture which is 
still to be seen in the Museum at Venice. Bozza 
did not make his appearance. 

The repast was magnificent. They drank joy- 
ously the health of the laureates. Titian observed 
with utter astonishment the countenance and man- 
ners of Francesco. He could not understand fra- 
ternal affection so tender, so devoted ; such a total 
absence of jealous)’^ in an artist; he was quite 
aware that Francesco was not without ambition; 
but Francesco’s heart was yet greater than his 
genius. Valerio was in ecstacy at his brother’s 
joy. At times he was so overcome b^ it, that he 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS, 


187 


became sad. At desert, Marietta Robusti proposed 
Titian’s health, and soon after, Francesco, rising, 
with his cup in his hand, said, with a radiant brow, 
“ I drink to my master, Valerio Zuccato. ” The 
two brothers threw themselves into each other’s 
arms, and mingled their tears. The good priest 
Alberto, it is said, became a little more than rea- 
sonably eXcited, after tasting only a few drops of 
the Greek wines which the other guests were drink- 
ing by cupsful. He was so gentle and so naive^ that 
all his intoxication was expended in an increase of 
friendship and admiration.. Old Zuccato came, 
towards the end of the dinner, but not in a very 
good humour. “Many thanks, master,” he replied 
to Titian, who offered him a cup of wine, “how 
can you wish me to drink on such a day as this 1” 
“Is it not the finest day of your life, my old friend?” 
replied Titian, “ and is not that reason enough for 
emptying a flagon of Samos with your frienos ?” 

“No master,” replied the old man, “ this day is 
not fine for me. It binds my sons to an ignoble 
trade forever, and condemns two geniuses, of the 
first order, to unworthy labours. Many thanks; I see 
no great reason for drinking in that.” He was, how- 
ever a little softened when his sons proposed his 
health; and then the little Marietta came caressingly 
to play with the silver curls of his beard, entreat- 
ing, for what she termed, her husband’s pardon. 

“ Eh ! my pretty one,” said Zuccato, “ does that 
pleasantry still last?” 

“ It lasts so well that I am anxious to have the 
betrothment feast as soon as possible,” replied 
Tintoretto smiling. 


188 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


History does not say whether this feast ever took 
place, nor whether Valerio Zuccato married Mari- 
etta RobiiSti. However, 'we may believe, that 
they remained intimate, and that the two families 
formed thenceforward, but one. F rancesco wished 
in vain to abdicate his authority in virtue of the 
rights of his brother^ whose perseverance compel- 
led him to re-assume the station of first master; so 
that Valerio’s title remained purely honorary. 

The school of the Zuccati again became flourish- 
ing and joyous ; nothing was altered except that 
Valerio led a regular life, and that Gian Antonio 
IJianchini, induced by good examples, and gained 
by kind behaviour, became a worthy artist in talent 
and in conduct. Happy days arose from this new 
horizon, and the Zuccati produced many other 
d’cewtres, the details of which would be too long ; 
and besides, my children, you have plenty of lei- 
sure to go and admire them yourselves in our ca- 
thedrals. The St. Jerome of Bozza, is in the hall of 
the Treasury, that of Gian Antonio is in the sacris- 
ty of St. Matk, that of Zuccato was sent as a pre- 
sent to the Duke of Savoy ; 1 am unable to say 
what has become of it. 

Here finished the Abbe’s tale. * Many enquiries 
were made about Bozza. Notwithstanding the 
great faults of this artist, his great sufferings inte- 
rested us. “Bozza,” replied the Abbe, “could 
not endure the idea of working under the orders of 
the Zuccati. The fear of finding them still generous, 
after all his injuries, was more terrible to him than 
that of any punishment. He wandered from town 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


189 


to town, working now at Bologna, now at Padua; 
living on little, and gaining still less. Notwith- 
standing his great talents, and his diploma, his 
haughty manners and his gloomy air inspired dis- 
trust. He cared little for poverty, but obscurity 
was the torment of his life. After some years he 
returned to Venice, and the Zuccati obtained for 
him the mastership, and employment. Times 
were altered ; the Government had become less 
strict in its reforms. Bozza might wmrk, but it 
appeared that Tintoretto could never forget his 
past conduct with respect to the Zuccati. The in- 
flexible old man, forced to furnish him with cartoons, 
made him wait for them so long, that a letter of 
Bozza’s still remains, where he complains of being 
reduced to destitution, by the interminable delays 
of the master. The Zuccati had nothing of this 
kind to fear ; they could design their own subjects; 
and besides, they w’ere loved and esteemed by all 
the masters. 'I'hey carried the mosaic art to a 
degree of perfection which has never been equalled. 
Bozza has left fine works, but he could not con- 
quer his defects, because his soul was inc«mplete.” 

Marini and Ceccato appear to have survived the 
Zuccati, and to have taken their place in the first 
rank of mastership. 

“And now,” ray friends, added the Abbe, “if 
you examine the magnificent mosaic panels of the 
great age of Venetian painting, and if you remem- 
ber what I showed you the other day, at Torcello, 
on the fragments of the ancient Byzantine gypso- 
plastic, you will see that the destiny of this com- 
pletely oriental art was united with that of paint- 


190 


THE MOSAIC WORKERS. 


ing, until the epoch of the Zuccati ; but that later, 
when left to itself, Mosaic art degenerated, and 
ended by being entirely lost. Florence seems to 
have monopolized this art; but she has reduced it 
to mere decoration. The new chapel of the Medici 
is remarkable for the richness of the materials 
employed in its adornment; lapis lazuli, veined 
with gold, the most precious marbles, ambergris, 
coral, alabaster, and malachite, are displayed in 
arabesques and ornaments, designed in very pure 
taste ; but our old pictures, of unalterable colour- 
ing, our brilliant enamels, so ingeniously obtained 
in every desirable shade, by the glass manufacture 
at Murano, our illustrious master-mosaists, our 
rich corporations, and our joyous companies — all 
these exist now only to prove, by their monuments, 
their ruins or their memories, the splendour of times 
long passed away.” 

Day appeared in the horizon; grey sea-gulls 
rose up in flocks from the marshes of Palestrina, 
and ploughed in every direction the atmosphere, 
which was becoming sensibly lighter every mo- 
ment. The sun rose with a rapidity which was 
unknown to me; and the beauty of the morning 
threw me into a kind of ecstacy. 

“ Behold the only blessing of which the foreign- 
er cannot deprive us,” said the Abbe, with a mourn- 
ful smile; “if a proclamation could prevent the 
sun flora shining radiantly above our cupolas, 
three police officers would have been sent long 
ago to order him to keep his smiles and looks of 
love for the walls of Vienna."” 


THE OKCO; 


A TRADITION 


OF THE AUSTRIAN RULE IN VENICE. 






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THE ORCO; 

A VENETIAN TRADITION, 


According to our usual custom, we were sitting 
under the Veranda; the evening was stormy, the 
sky covered with black clouds, which emitted fre- 
quent gleams of lightning. We were all silling 
in such melancholy silence, that one would have 
thought the heaviness of the atmosphere had taken 
possession' of our hearts, and in reality we felt al- 
most tearfully inclined. Beppa, too, usually the 
gayest of the gay, seemed quite given up to sad 
thoughts. In vain did the Abbe, who appeared 
himself to be much oppressed by the sadness of the 
company, endeavour by all means in his power, to 
re-animate the spirits of our friend. Neither his 
questions, sarcasms, nor entreaties, could rouse 
her from her reverie ; her eyes were fixed on the 
sky, and her fingers strayed at hazard over the 
chords of her guitar; she seemed to be totally un- 
conscious of anything passing around her, and 
given up to the plaintive tones of her instrument, 
and watching the capricious wanderings of the 


\ 


194 


THE ORCO ; 


clouds. The good Abbe Panorio, discouraged by 
the ill success of his efforts, turned to me, saying: 

“ Come, dear Zorzi, now to try your power over 
the capricious beauty. There exists between you 
two, a kind of magnetic sympathy, which is 
stronger tjian all my reasonings, and the sound of 
your voice will often wake her from the most 
mournful dreams.” 

‘^The magnetic sympathy which you notice, my 
dear Abbe, proceeds from the entire identity of 
our sentiments. We have, through life, suffered 
and thought alike, and our mutual knowledge of 
each other’s ideas informs us what exterior circum- 
stances have awakened their power. I will wager 
that I can divine, if not the exact subject, at least 
the nature of her reverie.” 

And turning to Deppa : Carissima,” said 1, “to 
which of our sisters are your sad thoughts dedi- 
cated ?” 

“ To the most beautiful,” said she, without 
turning round, “to the noblest, to the most un- 
happy.” 

“ When died she?” said I, already really inter- 
rested for one who occupied so large a space in 
the memory of my noble-minded friend, and wish- 
ing to associate my regrets also with a destiny, of 
which 1 imagined I could not be entirely ignorant, 

“ She died the end of last winter, the same even- 
ing on which the masqued ball was given at the 
Servilio Palace. She had borne many sorrows, she 
had overcome many dangers, she had passed 
through terrible emotions without blenching, and 


A VENETIAN TRADITION. 


195 


she disappeared from our sight, leaving nota trace 
behind, as ..though she had been stricken by a 
thunderbolt. Every one in Venice knew her 
more or less, but I better than any, for none loved 
her so much ; and in order to understand her, the 
inspiration of perfect love was necessary. Many 
do not believe in her death, though she has never 
re-appeared since the evening I alluded to. They 
say she has often disappeared before, and may yet 
return; but I know she will return no more, and 
that her career is ended. Could I still doubt, I 
would, but she contrived to inform me of the fatal 
truth by him who was the unhappy cause of it. 
And what a death ! The greatest sorrow of this 
age of sorrows ! And her life ! — what a life ! So 
full of beauty and contrast, so mysterious, so bril- 
liant, so sad, so splendid, so enthusiastic, so aus- 
tere, so voluptuous, so complete in all points of 
resemblance with all human things! No! No 
life and no death have ever resembled hers. She 
alone, in this prosaic age, has been enabled to sup- 
press all the common realities of life, and to leave 
nothing but its poetry. Faithful to the old cus- 
tom of the national aristocracy, she never appeared 
until dusk; masqued, but without attendants. 
There is not an inhabitant of the city who has not 
met her, wandering through the squares or streets, 
or who has not perceived her gondola stationary in 
some canal ; but no one ever yet saw her leave or 
enter it; and although no one was left in charge 
of it, no one ever attempted to rob it. It was 
painted and equipped just like all other gondolas, 


196 


THE ORCO ; 


and yet every one recognized it, even the children 
all knew ‘ the gondola of the Masque.’ As to its 
destinations, or where its mistress came from in 
the evening, or returned at morning, no one could 
even form a conjecture.” 

The Custom-house officers often saw a black 
shadow gliding through the Lagunes, and mistak- 
ing it for a smuggler’s bark, pursued it into the 
open sea ; but when daylight broke, nothing offer- 
ed itself to their view, which resembled the object 
of their pursuit, and at last they became so accus- 
tomed to its appearance, that they contented them- 
selves with saying: “ There is the gondola of the 
masque again.” Every night this mysterious 
masque traversed the town, seeking no one knew 
what. Now it was seen in the large open squares, 
then in the obscnirest streets, now on the bridges, 
then under the piazzes of the noblest palaces, in 
the most frequented, and in the most desert 
places. Sometimes its pace was slow, some- 
times fast ; it went — it came — apparently heed- 
less alike of crowds or solitude. It never 
stopped. It appeared to contemplate with an im- 
passioned admiration, the houses, the monuments, 
the canal, and the blue sky, and even to inhale the 
very atmosphere with delight. When the Masque 
recognized a friend, it signed to him to follow, and 
both disappeared. Many a time has it led me apart 
from the crowd, and seeking some sequestered 
place, we have conversed on subjects interesting 
to us both. I always followed with confidence, 
because of our friendship ; but many to whom it 
gave the sign of invitation, did not dare to accept 


A VENETIAN TRADITION. 


197 


it. Strange reports were afloat, and cooled the 
courage of the most intrepid. It was whispered 
that many young men, believing that they had 
discovered a lovely face and figure under the 
masque and black robe, had become enamoured of 
her, as much from the singularity and mystery of 
her proceedings, as from her imagined beauty, 
and that, having been so imprudent as to follo\^ 
her, from that moment they had disappeared. The 
police, having remarked that these young peo- 
ple were all Austrians, directed all their ener- 
gies to learn their fate, and to seize the alledged 
cause of their disappearance. 

But they had no better fortune than the custom- 
house oflficers ; the young foreigners never re-ap- 
peared, nor could they ever lay their hands on the 
Masque. A strange adventure too, which happen- 
ed at this lime, still further discouraged the most 
daring officers of the Viennese inquisition. Seeing 
that it wus impossible to apprehend the Masque at 
night, two of the most zealous oflicers resolved to 
wait till she rejoined her gondola, to seize her 
then. One evening, when they saw it fastened at 
the Quay of the Esclavons, they went down and 
concealed themselves in it. They remained all 
night without seeing any one, but an hour before 
daybreak they thought they felt the bark detached. 
They rose silently, and prepared as they thought, 
to seize upon their prey, but on the instant a terri- 
ble blow or shock made both the gondola and the 
unlucky Austrian police officers lose their equili- 
brium. One was drowned, and the other only 

17 * 


198 


THE ORCO ; 


saved by the immediate assistance rendered by 
some smugglers. The next morning nothing was 
to be seen of the gondola, and the police would 
have imagined it had sunk for ever, but that the 
very next evening it was fastened at the same 
place, in precisely the same state. At last a 
superstitious terror seized all the myrmidons of 
the law, and none were willing again to tempt the 
adventure. The Masque was no further inter- 
fered with, and went and came as heretofore. 

At the beginning of last autumn, a young Aus- 
trian officer, named Franz Lichtenstein, joined the 
garrison here. He was a young man, of an impas- 
sioned and enthusiastic character, and the germ of 
all noble and grand sentiments existed in his soul 
as if by instinct. Notwithstanding his bad poli- 
tical education as an aristocrat, he had kept his 
mind free from prejudice, and had a heartfelt en- 
thusiasm for liberty. His position prevented him 
from expressing this openly, but as soon as his 
public duties were finished, he discarded his uni- 
form, which in his mind was indissolubly connect- 
ed with the crimes of the government he served, 
and hastened to seek those friends in the city who 
had been attracted by his talents and virtue, with 
whom to interchange his thoughts and sympathies. 
We were always delighted to hear him speak of 
Venice. He gazed on her with the eye of an artist, 
mourned over her degradation, and worshipped her 
almost with a Venetian’s love. He was never 
tired of wandering through the city, and expatia- 
ting on her beauties. His pride seemed to be 


A VENETIAN TRADITIOO 


199 


knowing her better than those who claimed her as 
their native land. 

In his nocturnal wandering he’ had encountered 
the Masque, and at first he had not paid much at- 
tention to it, until he noticed that it seemed actuat- 
ed by the same curiosity and feelings as himself, 
and this strange coincidence was remarked upon 
by him to several persons. He was reminded of 
the mysterious dangers surrounding the veiled 
stranger, and advised to be on his guard. But 
brave, even to temerity, these warnings, instead of 
startling him, only inspired him with an ardent 
wish to become acquainted with the inscrutable 
personage who had produced so strong an impres- 
sion upon the general mind. Wishing to preserve 
his incognito as carefully as the Masque preserved 
hers, he dressed himself as one of middle rank, 
and thus pursued his nocturnal excursions. He 
was not long in meeting the object of his search ; 
one fine moonlight night he saw the Masque stand- 
ing before the beautiful church of St. John and 
St. Paul. She seemed to be contemplating with 
extreme admiration the beautiful ornaments of the 
Portal. The Count approached with slow and 
silent steps ; she did not seem to hear him, and 
did not move from her position. Having waited 
a moment or two in order to see if he were discov- 
ered, he now approached nearer. He heard a deep 
sigh, and then she sang, but in so low a tone that 
he could not distinguish the words; but after a 
moment’s attention he recognized the patois of a 
popular air, which he had often heard sung in the 


200 


THE ORCO ; 


streets. Being himself a good musician, and en- 
dowed with an excellent memory, he even joined 
in the melody ; but instead of stopping, as he had 
feared, the Masque continued her song, and their 
voices rose into the air in beautiful harmony to- 
gether, When the song was ended, Franz, who 
did not understand the Venitian dialect, but was 
thoroughly conversant with Italian, spoke to her 
in pure Tuscan. 

“ Honour to those,” said he, “ honour and hap- 
piness to those who love Venice.” 

“ Who art thou F’ said the Masque, in a full 
sonorous voice, which, however, fell upon the ear 
like that of a nightingale. 

“ An idolater of Beauty.” 

“ Art thou of those, whose brutal love would 
enslave free Beauty, or one, who, kneeling before 
her, captive and in sorrow, would join thy tears 
to hers]” 

“ When the bird of night sees his bosom’s rose 
giving forth her beauty to the evening breeze, he 
sings in the fulness of his joy ; when he sees her 
fading under the withering breath of the storm- 
cloud, he hides his head and mourns. So does my 
soul for Venice.” 

“ Follow me, then; .thou art one of my elect.” 
And seizing the young man’s hand, she drew him 
towards the church. When he felt the cold hand 
of the unknown touch his, and saw that she direct- 
ed her steps towards the gloomy church, the sinis- 
ter histories he had heard involuntarily recurred to 
his mind, and, seized with a momentary terror, 


A VENETIAN TRADITION. 


201 


he stopped short. The masqued figure turned 
round, and fixing a scrutinizing glance upon him 
said, 

“ Thou art afraid ! Adieu.” 

Then dropping his hand, she was moving hastily 
away, when Franz, repenting of his hesitation, 
sprang forward, and catching hold of her hand, 
again, exclaimed : 

“ No ! I am not afraid. Let us go on.” 

She continued her route without replying; but 
instead of going towards the church, as at the first 
she seemed inclined, she dived into one of the lit- 
tle streets which led from the square. The moon 
was now clouded, and the greatest obscurity reign- 
ed in the city. Franz could scarcely see where he 
placed his feet, and could distinguish nothing in 
the dark shadows which surrounded him. From 
time to time, a few gleams of light served to show 
him the banks of a canal, a bridge, a vault, or 
some unknown portions of a labyrinth of obscure 
and winding streets, and then all was dark again. 
He soon discovered that he was a total stranger to 
this part of Venice, and quite at the mercy of his 
guide. But resolved to brave everything, he tes- 
tified no disquietude, and follow'ed his conductress 
without making a single observation. After a 
long hour’s walk, the masqued figure stopped. 

‘^Itis well,” said she, “ you have a brave heart; 
had you shown the least sign of fear, this meeting 
would have been our last; but you have been im- 
perturbable, and I am satisfied. To-morrow, again, 
w'e will meet opposite the church of St. John and 


202 


THE ORCO ; 


St. Paul at eleven o’clock. — Do not endeavour to 
follow me, it would be useless. Go down this 
little street to the right, and you will find yourself 
in St. Mark’s Place. Au revoir.” 

She pressed his hand warmly, and disappeared 
before he had time to reply. The Count remained 
motionless for some minutes, astonished at all that 
had happened, and undecided what course to pur- 
sue. But after reflecting on the small chance he 
had of tracing this mysterious person, and the risk 
f e should run of losing himself in the pursuit, 
3e determined to return home; and following her 
directions, in a few minutes he found himself in 
St. Mark’s square, and soon regained his hotel. 

The next day he was punctual to the rendez- 
vous. He reached the square just as the clock 
struck eleven ; and saw the Masque waiting for 
him on the steps of the church-door. 

“.It is well,” said she, “ thou art exact — let us 
enter.” 

She turned abruptly towards the church. Franz, 
who saw the door was closed, and knew that it 
was never open at night, thought she must be 
mad. But what was.his surprise in seeing the 
door yield to the first effort. He followed his 
guide mechanically, who, as soon as he had en- 
tered, shut the door upon them. They were in 
darkness; but Franz recollecting that the inner 
door, which separated them from the nave, had no 
lock, felt no uneasiness, and was preparing to 
push it open. But she stopped him, saying ab^ 
ruptly — 


A VENETIAN TRADITION. 


203 


“ Have' you ever been in this church before 1” 

“Tw'enty limes,” replied he, “and know it as 
well as the architect himself.” 

“ Say rather you think you know it, for in truth 
you are quite ignorant of it. Now enter.” 

Franz pushed open the door, and entered the 
body of the church. It was brilliantly illumina- 
ted, though completely deserted. 

“ What ceremony is to be celebrated to-night ? ’ 
said Franz, stupified with astonishment. 

“ None; the church expected me. Follow me.” 

The Count endeavored in vain to understand the 
sense of the w'ords which the Masque addressed 
to him, but yielding to the mystery of the moment, 
he followed obediently. She led him towards the 
middle of the church, and made him remark, com- 
prehend, and admire the general disposition of its 
parts. Then passing to details, she explained the 
construction of the nave, the columns, the cha- 
pels, the alters, the statues, the pictures, the orna- 
ments, showed him the design of each part, ex- 
plained the idea concealed in each device, and 
proceeding from each detail to the beautiful whole, 
she made him as it were enter into the very mind 
and spirit of the architect. Franz listened w'itha 
religious attention to every word that fell from the 
eloquent lips, which seemed to take a pleasure in 
enlightening him, and every moment felt more and 
more how little he had previously understood 
even that which to him had appeared easy of com- 
prehension. By the time she had finished, the 
pale light ofmorning was dimming the lustre of the 


204 


THE OKCO : 


wax-tapers. Although she had spoken for hours, 
and had not rested all the time, neither her voice 
nor gestures showed a symptom of fatigue. But 
her head was sunk upon her bosom, which heaved 
violently, and the sighs which it breathed forth 
might be distinctly heard. Suddenly she raised 
her head, and uplifting her arms to heaven, ex- 
claimed: 

“ Oh ! Servitude, Servitude !” 

Tears dropping from beneath her masque, fell 
upon her black robe. 

“ Why do you weep ?” exclaimed Franz, ap- 
proaching her. 

“ To-morrow,” shje replied, “ at midnight, be- 
fore the Arsenal. ” 

And she went out by the side-door on the left, 
which closed heavily after her. At the same mo- 
ment the Angelus sounded, and Franz, startled by 
the unexpected sound of the clock, turned round 
and saw that all the tapers were extinct. He re- 
mained for some time almost immoveable with sur- 
prise; he then left the church by the principal 
door which the sacristans had just opened, and 
went slowly home, endeavouring to divine who 
this woman might be who was so bold, so artistical, 
so powerful, and yet so full of fascination in her 
manner, and dignity in her deportment. 

The next evening at midnight the Count was at 
the arsenal. There he found the Masque waiting 
for him, and without speaking, she led the way 
with great rapidity towards one of the side doors 
on the right, which she opened by the aid of a 
golden key, which Franz saw by the moon’s light; 


A VENETIAN TRADITION. 


205 


the lock yielded without noise, and passing in first, 
she signed to Franz to follow. He hesitated an 
instant. To penetrate into the arsenal at night by 
means of a false key, was to run the risk of being 
summoned before a council of war, if discovered; 
and not to be discovered, seemed impossible in a 
place filled with sentinels. However, seeing her 
preparing to close the door upon him, he decided 
to pursue the adventure, and entered. The 
IMasque led him through several courts, ^hen 
through corridors and galleries, of which she 
opened all the doors with her golden key, and at 
last introduced him into vast saloons filled with 
arms of all kinds and of all nations which had 
served in the wars of the Republic. These sa- 
loons were lighted by lanterns, placed at regular 
distances between the trophies. She displayed to 
the Count the most curious and celebrated wea- 
pons of all kinds, telling him to whom they had 
belonged, the combats in w-hich they had been 
employed, and relating to him in detail the ex- 
ploits of which they had been the instruments. 
Thus did she resuscitate before the eyes of Franz 
the whole history of Venice. After visiting the 
four saloons dedicated to these uses, she led him 
into another still more spacious, and lighted in the 
same manner, where they found variously shaped 
pieces of wood, the remains of different vessels ; 
and many portions of the last Bucentaur. She 
explained to her companion the qualities of all the 
different species of wood, the different construc- 
tion of the vessels, the purpose for which they 
18 


206 


THE ORCO : 


had been designed, and the actions in which they 
had borne their part, and then pointing to the frag- 
ments of the Bucentaur — 

‘‘ Behold,” said she in a low sad voice, “ be- 
hold the remains of our past sovereignty. There 
lies the wreck of the last vessel which bore the 
Doge to his Adriatic Bride. Now Venice is a 
Slave, and the Slave has no bride. Oh ! Servitude! 
Servitude!” 

After having pronounced these w’ords, she left 
the arsenal, but this time she led the Count forth 
also, who could not without danger have remained 
there ; they returned the same way by which they 
had entered, without meeting any one. They then 
fixed on a new place of meeting for the morrow, 
and separated. 

The next day, and each following day she led 
Franz to all the principal buildings of the town, 
introducing him everywhere with marvellous fa- 
cility, explaining everything which came under 
their notice with on astonishing clearness, and 
proving herself possessed of immense knowledge 
and sensibility. He knew not which most to ad- 
mire, the intellect which appeared to grasp all 
knowledge, or the heart whose every emotion 
seemed fraught with tenderness. That, which at 
first had been but a fantasy,- became a deep and 
real feeling. Curiosity led to his seeking the 
Masque, and surprise and interest made him con- 
tinue the adventure. The rendezvous of each 
succeeding night became an utter necessity to 
him. Although her words were often grave and 
often sad, yet Franz found an indescribable fasci- 


A VENETIAN TRADITION. 207 

nation attach him to the unknown. He could not 
close his eyes in sleep, if he had missed the even- 
ing’s wandering and tearful communion with her. 
He had felt so profound a respect for her enthusi- 
asm and apparent suffering, that he had never 
even requested her to remove her masque, or de- 
clare her name ; for as she had never inquired his, 
he would have blushed to betray more curiosity 
than she did ; and besides he had a pleasure in 
hoping to enjoy her confidence as her own gift, 
rather than as a consequence of his importunity. 
She seemed to understand the delicacy of his con- 
duct, and to appreciate it, for at each interview 
she showed him more confidence and sympathy. 
Though love had never even been mentioned be- 
tween them, Franz had a secret hope that she di- 
vined his passion, and secretly loved him in re- 
turn. This hope alone w'as almost sufficient for 
his present happiness, and when a wish sometimes 
arose, to know more intimately one who was al- 
ready the mistress of his soul, his imagination, 
acted upon by the beautiful mystery which sur- 
rounded her, painted her as a creature of such 
beauty and perfection, that he almost dreaded the 
time when she would appear to him in her simple 
womanhood. 

One night when they were lingering under the 
colonnades of St. Mark, the Masque made Franz 
stop before a picture which represented a girl 
kneeling before the patron saint of the city. 

“ What think you of the beauty of that figure?” 
said she, after allowing him time to examine it. 

“That it is,” replied Franz, “ the most marvel- 


208 


THE ORCO : 


lous beauty which it is possible even to conceive. 
The inspired soirt of the artist has produced this 
divine imagination, but such a face can exist but 
in heaven alone.” 

She pressed his hand warmly, and replied, 
“ And on my part, I can imagine nothing more 
glorious than St. Mark, as he appears in that 
picture, and only to one who is the earthly image 
of the saint can my love be given.” 

Franz trembled and turned pale, as he heard 
these words, for he recognized the most striking 
likeness between himself and the saint’s picture. 
He fell on his knees before the unknown, and 
bathed her hands with his tears, without being 
able to speak. 

“ I know now that thou art mine oyvn,” said 
she, in a voice broken by emotion, “ and that thou 
art worthy of knowing and of possessing me, — 
To-morrow at the ball at the Servilio Palace.” 

She then quitted him as heretofore, but without 
pronouncing the so to speak sacramental words 
with which she had terminated their former inter- 
views. Franz quite wild with joy, wandered all 
day about the town, utterly unable to stop a mo-.. 
ment in any one place. He admired the blue 
heavens, smiled joyfully at the Lagunes, looked 
at the houses as with a friendly greeting, and 
talked to the winds. Every one who met him 
took him for a fool or a madman, and looked their 
astonishment. He perceived it, and laughed at 
their folly, as they laughed at his. When any of 
his friends asked him what he had done with 
himself the last month, he could only repeat, “ I 


A VENETIAN TRADITION. 


209 


am going to be happy,” and passed on. When 
the evening came, he purchased a magnificen 
scarf and new epaulettes, and went in full uniform 
to the Servilio Palace. 

It was a splendid ball. Every one except the 
officers of the Austrian garrison was disguised, 
and the variety of different and elegant costumes, 
combined with the sounds of the full orchestra to 
form a brilliant and animated scene. Franz stroll- 
ed through all the apartments, approached every 
group, and examined every lady. Many were re- 
markably handsome, but none seemed worthy to 
stay his wandering looks an instant. 

“ She is not here yet,” said he to himself, “ I 
was sure of it, it is not yet her hour.” 

He placed himself behind a column near the 
principal entrance, and waited with his eyes fixed 
on the portal. Often did the door open and often 
did lovely women enter, without one quicker 
movement of his heart. But just as the clock 
struck eleven, he started and exclaimed, loud 
enough for those near him to hear: “ Behold her!” 

All eyes turned towards him, as though to ask 
the meaning of his exclamation. But the lady 
who entered soon attracted all eyes and all atten- 
tion upon herself. Franz recognized her imme- 
diately. She was the living image of the maiden 
in the picture, habited in the costume of the fif- 
teenth century, and her beauty seemed yet more 
striking from the magnificence of her costume. — 
She advanced with a slow and majestic step, with 
perfect self-possession, and without saluting any 
18 * 


210 


THE ORCO: 


one; as though she were the queen of the ball. 
No one seemed to recognize her save Franz, and 
every one gave way before her, overcome by her 
dignity, and almost more than mortal beauty. 
Franz, dazzled and enchanted, followed at a short 
distance. Just as she arrived in the principal 
room, a young man in the costume of Tasso, was 
singing to the accompaniment of a lute, a romance 
in honour of Venice. She approached him, and 
looking fixedly at him, asked how he had temerity 
sufficient, in such a costume, to sing the glories of 
Venice. Startled by the question, the young man 
changed colour, and presented his instrument to 
her. She took it, and running her fingers over the 
chords, she chanted to its modulations a kind of 
song, in an irregular and often interrupted rhythm. 

“ Dance, laugh, and sing, gay children of Ve- 
nice! For you, winter has no frost, night no 
darkness, life no cares. You are the fortunate of 
the earth, and Venice is the Queen of Nations ! 
Who speaks'? Who dares to think that Venice is 
no longer Venice? There are eyes to see, ears to 
hear, and tongues to tell, and the Council of Ten 
to dread, if you are not good citizens. Good citi- 
zens dance, laugh, and sing, but never speak their 
thoughts. Then dance, laugh, and sing, children 
of Venice!” 

“ Venice, thou who seemesi born rather of the 
spirit, than executed by the hand of man; and 
created for the passing sojourn of pure souls, as a 
foretaste on this earth of heaven; walls which yet 
seem inhabited by spirits, and round which the 
atmosphere of magic still lingers; colonnades, 


A VENETIAN TRADITION. 


211 


which in airy lightness seem trembling in the eve 
ning air, piercing spires which intermingle in 
beautiful confusion with the floating masts of 
ships; angels and saints, who appear just to have 
alighted on the cupolas to feel the cool sea-breeze; 
thou city, who seemest not like others to be on 
the dull and heavy earth, but to float like a swan 
upon the waters, rejoice, rejoice, rejoice! A new 
destiny offers itself before you, as glorious as the 
former. The Black Eagle spreads its wings above 
the Lion of St, Mark, and Austrian feet dance in 
the Palace of the Doges ! Be silent, ye harmo- 
nies of night ! Peace, insensate whispers of the 
Dance ! Be no longer heard, hymn of the fisher- 
man; cease to murmur, voice of the Adriatic! 
Expire, lamp of the Madonna; for ever veil thy 
splendour, thou silver queen of night ! There 
are no longer Venetians in Venice! Are we 
dreaming? Is this a festival ? Yes, yes, dance, 
laugh, and sing ! It is the hour, when the shade 
of Faliero slowly descends the Giant’s Staircase! 
and pauses on the last step. Dance, laugh, and 
sing, for midnight approaches, and the spirits of 
the departed will sound in our ears : Servitude! 
Servitude !” 

As the last words died upon her lips, she let 
her lute fall, which sent forth a mournful sound as 
it fell upon the marble floor ; and the clock struck: 
every one listened to the twelve strokes in a deep 
silence. Then the master of the house advancing 
towards the unknown, said in a startled and irri- 
tated manner : “ Madam, to whom am I indebted 

for the honour of your presence?” 


212 


THE ORCO : 


“To me,” exclaimed Franz, “ and if it be dis- 
pleasing, I am here to avouch it!” 

The unknown, who had apparently paid no at- 
tention to the host’s question, turned round on 
hearing the Count’s voice, with a countenance 
beaming with joy : 

“I live,” said she, “I shall live;” but per- 
ceiving his uniform, she turned pale, her looks 
became gloomy, and she abruptly said : 

“ Why have you chosen such a disguise!” 

“This is no disguise,” answered he, “it is 
my — ” he could say no more, the expression of 
her countenance terrified him. She looked at him 
for a short time in silence, and tears fell from her 
eyes. Franz hastily approached her, but exclaim- 
ing in a broken voice, “follow me,” she went 
rapidly through the crowd, and leaving the palace, 
stepped into her gondola, desiring Franz to follow 
and seat himself. When he had done so, he cast 
his eyes round, and perceiving no gondolier, said, 
“ But who will conduct the gondola!” 

“ I,” replied she, seizing the oar. 

“ Nay, rather let me,” said the Count. 

“No! Austrian hands can never manage the 
Venetian oar,” and so saying, the gondola glided 
like an arrow through the Lagune. 

They W'ere soon far from the palace. Franz, 
who was eagerly awaiting the explanation of her 
sudden anger, was astonished and inquiet at her 
continued silence. 

“Where are we going!” said he, after some 
moments’ reflection. 

“Where our destiny leads us,” replied she; 


A VENETIAN TRADITION. 


213 


and, a3 though these. words had revived her dis- 
pleasure, she plied her oar with redoubled vigour. 
The gondola, obedient to her skilful hand, seemed 
literally to fly over the water. Franz saw the 
foam glide past with its dazzling spray, and all 
the boats they met or passed on their passage, 
were soon left behind, as clouds scattered by the 
hurricane. The darkness increased, the wind 
rose, and the young man could hear nothing but 
the rippling of the wave, and the breeze which 
lifted his hair ; and he could see nothing but the 
shades of evening, and the white figure of his 
companion upright on the prow : — her hands on 
the oar, her hair scattered over her shoulders, and 
her white robes agitated by the-winds, she seemed 
less like a woman, than the storm-spirit, rejoicing 
in the troubled waters. 

“ Where are we?” exclaimed Franz, in an agi- 
tated voice. 

“ Is the Captain afraid?” said she, with a dis- 
dainful laugh. 

Franz did not reply ; he felt that she was right, 
and that fear was overcoming him. Not being 
able to conquer it, he resolved at least to conceal 
it, and to keep silent. But after some time, feel- 
ing more and more bewildered, he rose and ap- 
proached his mysterious companion. 

“ Be seated, cried she. 

Franz, whom his fears rendered desperate, still 
advanced. 

“ Be seated !” reiterated she ; and perceiving 
that he came yet nearer, she stamped on the prow 
so violently with her foot, that the gondola trem 


214 


THE ORCO : 


bled as though it would be completely overset, and 
Franz losing his balance, fell senseless on the 
deck. When he recovered, he saw the unknown 
weeping at his feet. Touched by her bitter grief, 
and forgetting what had passed, he raised her in 
his arms, and seated her by his side ; but though 
she did not resist, her tears continued to flow. 

“Why do you weep, dearest?” exclaimed 
Franz, pressing her to his bosom. 

“The Lion, the Lion,” said she, pointing to the 
sky, 

Franz looked, and saw the constellation of the 
Liofl shining in solitary splendour in the heavens. 

“ But why this deep sorrow, beloved ]” said he. 

“ The stars can have no real influence over our 
destiny ; and if they have, we can easily find a 
favourable constellation to watch over our fate. 
Venus rules the sky as well as the Lion.” 

“Venus hath set, and the Lion is risen; and 
look, look,” said she, mournfully, and pointing to- 
wards the horizon, “Who can resist that which 
approaches I” 

Franz looked where she pointed, and saw a 
black shadow, which seemed in the distance sur- 
rounded by a halo of fire. 

“ What is that object ]” said he in amazement. 

“ Destiny,” replied she ; “ who advances to 
seize its victim.” “ What victim 1” sayest thou. 
“ That one which I shall offer. Have you not 
heard of the young Austrians who have entered 
my gondola, and never re-appeared?” 

“ Yes, but that rumor was surely false.” 

It is true; I must destroy, or be destroyed.-^ 


A VENETIAN TRADITION. 


215 


Each youth of your country who loves me, and is un- 
loved by me, dies. And whilst I do not love, I live, 
and I destroy ; and when I love, I die. It is ray des- 
tiny.” 

“ Ohf God, who art thou, then 1” 

“ How it advances ! in a moment it will be upon us.’ 
Listen, listen.” 

The dark shadow bore down with inconceivable ra- 
pidity, and now appeared as a large vessel. It seemed 
illuminated with a red dame on all sides, black shadowy 
figures stood immoveable on the prow, and a vast 
quantity of oars rose and fell with a measured cadence 
falling on the ear with a boding so und ; hollow voices 
chaunted the Dies Irx, accompanied by the clanking 
of chains. 

“Oh, life — life!” exclaimed the unknown in des- 
pairing accents, “ Franz, dost thou not recognize that 
vessel 1” 

“ Its phantom-like appearance makes my blood run 
cold, but I do not recognize it.” 

It is the Hucentaur. The same which has en- 
gulphed all your compatriots. • They were all here, 
sitting in this same seat, at the same hour, near me, in 
this same gondola. As the vessel approached, a voice 
demanded, ‘Who goes there,’ I replied, Austria; then 
the voice said, ‘ Dost thou love or hate,’ I have replied, 
I hate ; and the voice has said ‘ Live ;’ then the Bucen- 
taur has run down the gondola, engulphed your coun- 
trymen, and carried me in triumph over the waters.” 

“ And to-day 1” — 

‘•Hark, they speak.” 

A deep mournful voice stilling the funeral noise on 
board the Bucentaur spoke, and said, 

“ Who goes there 1” 


216 


THE ORCO. 


“ Austria,” replied the trembling accents of the un- 
known. 

A chorus of maledictions broke from the Bucentaur, • 
which was approaching with increasing rapidity ; there 
was then silence again, and the same voice spoke, and 
said : 

Dost thou love or hate 1” 

The unknown hesitated a moment, and then, with a 
voice of thrilling power, she said, “I love.” 

“ Then thy destiny is accomplished. — Thou lovest 
Austria. — Perish Venice !” 

A bitter cry, a sound as of terror and despair, rang 
through the air, and Franz sank beneath the waves. — 
When he rose to the surface, he could see nothing, 
neither the gondola, the • Bucentaur, nor his beloved. 
He at last perceived some feeble lights in the distance, 
which proved to be the lanterns of the fishermen of 
Murano ; and by vigorous swimming he contrived to 
reach their island. Alas for Venice ! 

Beppa finished, the tears again streaming from her 
eyes. We watched her in silence, not attempting to 
console her. But suddenly she dried her tears, and 
turning round with capricious vivacity, said, “ Well, 
what makes you all so sadI Is it the eifect fairy tales 
commonly produce on you 1 Have you never heard 
of the Oreo, the Venetian Trilby? Have you never 
met it of an evening, in the cathedrals or canals? It 
is a good spirit enough, only doing evil to traitors or 
oppressors ; one might call it the guardian demon of 
Venice. But the Viceroy, hearing of the perilous ad- 
venture of Count Lichtenstein, sent to request the 
Patriarch to perform a grand exorcism on the Lagunes; 
and since that time the Oreo has never re-appeared.” 


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